


Good Times, Bad Times

by Cait_11



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 1920s, Author Castiel, Cas works at a grocery store as well, Coffeeshop owner Dean, Dean/Cas Big Bang, F/M, M/M, References to real-life historical events, The Revolutionary War, Time Travel, Victorian era, World War II, Writer Castiel, the great depression, time traveler dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-15
Updated: 2018-11-15
Packaged: 2019-08-24 00:49:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 31,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16629710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cait_11/pseuds/Cait_11
Summary: Dean is the owner of local coffee shop Whole Latte Love. Cas is a writer under a lot of stress from his editor and his boss at the grocery store he works at. When Dean and Cas meet at the coffee shop, they almost immediately become great friends. However, when Cas receives notes from his editor on how he doesn’t seem to write historical events well, Dean agrees to help him gain a better understanding of the events of the past. Soon, the two embark on an adventure through time. But what happens when a mysterious person begins to follow the two around, and what exactly does he want?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to thank my artist, AggieDoll, for her wonderful artwork. She did an amazing job creating it, and I hope you enjoy it while reading the story!

Dean grabbed the cup of coffee that Charlie had finished making, grabbing a lid and placing it on the cup. He slid it across the counter to the customer waiting on the other side, her arms crossed over her chest like she was annoyed at having to wait _two minutes_ for her coffee. That wasn’t even the slowest he made coffee before. Once, it took him ten minutes just to make one cup of coffee.

 

“Here you are,” Dean said with a smile. “Thank you for coming to Whole Latte Love. Enjoy your coffee!”

 

The woman grabbed her coffee from Dean and grumbled in a Scottish accent, “You know, your service could be faster.”

 

Dean stared at the woman for a few seconds, surprised by what she said. “I’m sorry, miss,” he ended up saying, trying to stay calm, keep his composure. “We do have a lot of customers to serve”—he gestured to the jam-packed eating area around them—“so I’m afraid there is always going to be a little bit of a wait.”

 

The woman gripped her coffee cup tighter—Dean feared she would spill her drink all over her—then turned around and stormed away. The sound of the door opening and closing shook the entire building—the coffee shop and Dean’s apartment upstairs.

 

Dean sighed as he walked over to the cash registers. He braced his hands on the edge of the counter and leaned forward a bit, looking out at the café. He was delighted to see that there barely was a line in front of him, just a few people staring up at the order board above his head. He took care of them quickly, taking their orders and passing the cups down to Charlie for her to start filling. He joined her shortly after, letting one of their other employees take over the front counter.

 

“Hey,” Charlie greeted as Dean reached around her to grab the coffee grounds so he could make a fresh pot of coffee. “You know when Sam’s making his way back here?”

 

Dean shrugged, dumping some measured coffee grounds into the pot and turning the coffee maker on. Soon, coffee was dripping into the pot.

 

“What do you mean you don’t know when your brother’s coming home?” Charlie asked accusingly, fists on her hips. “Did he not tell you?”

 

“He told me he’d be home whenever he finished packing up his dorm, so who knows,” Dean responded, rolling his eyes. “Apparently his roommate is a slob, so Sam always makes sure that the dorm is clean. He’s probably going to have to really clean it before he comes home.”

 

Charlie frowned. “Aww, I was just hoping for a little extra help around this place.”

 

Dean snorted. “What, you don’t miss him?”

 

“Oh, I do. I do miss him,” she repeated. “But I also miss how quickly and easily he handles the customers. We only get that during the summer and a few random times during the year for holidays and whatnot.”

 

Dean was about to answer, but when he looked up, his attention snagged on a guy that was sitting alone at a table, surrounded by books. He was typing away at his laptop, and there was a coffee cup sitting near him that Dean suspected was empty.

 

“Ooh!” Dean heard, right next to his ear. “Go talk to him! Maybe he wants something to eat, or drink.”

 

Dean turned towards Charlie, eyes wide. “Wh—what?” he stammered, his heart beating a little faster. “What makes you say that?”

 

Charlie stepped to the side so Dean could easily see her, arms folded over her chest, a smirk playing on her lips. “Go,” she said firmly, reaching out and shoving Dean towards the door that lead to the front of the café.

 

“But—” Dean protested, digging his heels into the ground.

 

“Go,” Charlie repeated, and then Dean found himself walking out from behind the counter and towards the stranger’s table.

 

“Uh, hey,” Dean said awkwardly when he made it towards the stranger’s table. “Would you—would you like something to drink? Eat?”

 

The guy looked up at him, a confused expression on his face. He cocked his head to the side and asked, “Aren’t we supposed to go to the counter and order or something…?” He trailed off as he looked over at the counter, and Dean followed his glance, noticing Charlie standing there with a huge smile on her face.

 

“Uh… yeah,” Dean answered. “But you looked like you needed something to eat, and you seemed too focused on your work to go to the counter yourself…” He trailed off and scratched the back of his neck. “This was stupid. I’ll go back to the counter—”

 

“No, wait!” the guy said frantically. “A coffee sounds great, actually. I already finished mine a while ago and could really use a new one.”

 

Dean took a few steps back, almost tripping over another customer’s bag that was on the ground. “I’ll go get that… then.”

 

“Thank you,” the guy replied, the smile on his face making his blue eyes seem even brighter.

Dean spun around and almost jogged back to the counter, his cheeks slowly turning crimson. He ignored Charlie asking him questions about the guy as he began to make a cup of coffee.

 

“Hey, answer me!” cut into Dean’s line of hearing. He spun around and was met by Charlie teasing him. “He’s cute! You think he’s cute?”

 

“No, no…” Dean trailed off. “I was just nervous.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “I’m gonna finish making his coffee so I can take it back out to him.”

 

Charlie leaned against the counter next to him and crossed her arms over her chest. “What’s his name?” she asked, tilting her head back so she could talk to Dean face-to-face.

 

Dean stopped pouring coffee, eyes wide. “I—I don’t know.”

 

Charlie grinned and patting him on the shoulder. “Go find out. Take a break. I’m gonna go back to the counter, serve customers, and _not_ make you nervous by watching. Sound good?”

 

Dean nodded, then finished making the guy’s coffee, putting a lid on and sliding a sleeve on so the guy wouldn’t burn his hand trying to hold it. He sighed deeply—breathed in, breathed out—before making his way back to the guy to give him his coffee.

 

“Thank you,” the guy said as soon as Dean handed him the steaming cup of coffee.

 

“You’re welcome,” Dean replied. He took a deep breath, then asked, “Can I sit here? I’m on break right now and I want someone to talk to besides my friend over there who’s making fun of me.”

 

“Uh, yeah,” the guy replied. He moved his books from the other side of the table so Dean could sit down. He gestured to the seat across from him. “Feel free to sit.”

 

“Thank you,” Dean said, sitting down. He nervously tapped his fingers on the table, but after the guy seemed to take notice of what he was doing he stopped. “Um, so what’s your name?”

 

“Castiel,” the guy responded. At the surprised look on Dean’s face, he added, “I know it’s weird, but my parents are super-religious and thought it was a nice name.”

 

Dean nodded, still a little surprised and confused. “So, uh, Cas—I hope it’s okay if I call you that—my name’s Dean.”

 

Cas snorted. “I know. You have a nametag.”

 

Dean looked down at his apron, as if he just noticed that all the years he owned the coffee shop he didn’t know he wore a nametag. “Right. I—I know that. I definitely knew that.” He looked down at the table, hoping that Cas wouldn’t notice the red spreading across his cheeks. When he finally did look up again, Cas was laughing at him. Dean didn’t even understand what was funny about it. He was just happy Cas didn’t want to stop talking to him after he probably messed everything up.

 

“Sorry,” Cas said, noticing how Dean saw him laughing at him. “It’s just that… you seem so nervous talking to me, and normally I’m the one who’s nervous talking to new people.”

 

“Oh, right,” Dean said. “Well, I’m sorry--”

 

Cas waved him off. “It’s fine. Anyway… I like this place. It’s cool. And the name is pretty nice. I’m hoping I’m right, but…” He sighed, then looked up at the ceiling like he was trying to remember something. “‘Whole Lotta Love’ by Led Zeppelin, right?”

 

Dean nodded. “Yep. Gotta love Led Zepp. Thought ‘Whole Latte Love’ was a kind of cool name for a coffee shop, and I was obviously right.”

 

Cas nodded. “Yeah. I’ve never really listened to Led Zeppelin before, but I understood the reference.” He was about to take a sip of coffee, but he must have thought against it because he moved his hand away from his cup as he laughed, presumably at Dean’s comment about being right. He took a deep breath, trying not to make a scene in the middle of the café, then returned to his coffee.

 

“You like the coffee?” Dean asked, leaning forward to grab Cas’s empty coffee cup from the coffee he had gotten earlier. He flipped it around a few times, accidentally getting a few drops of coffee on him. “Sorry,” he said quickly, setting the empty cup back down on the table.

 

Cas smiled at Dean’s awkwardness. “It’s fine,” he said, sliding the empty cup towards himself. “I need to throw this out, anyway.” He paused for a second, lost it thought, then added, “And the coffee is great. Much better than the crap I get at other places or attempt to make myself.”

 

Dean chuckled at that. “Well, you’re welcome.” He sighed as he looked up at the ceiling, trying to think of something to say to keep the conversation. When he looked back down at the table, his eyes caught on the stack of books that Cas had on the table. Dean picked up the book on the top of the stack: _The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich_ by William L. Shirer. “Wow,” Dean said, impressed. “What do you need this for?”

 

Cas reached across the table and grabbed the book from Dean’s hands, fumbling from the book’s weight. “Uh, research,” he answered, setting the book back on top of the stack and lining it up with the others.

 

“For what, might I ask?” Dean pressed, curious. He really wanted to know why Cas needed to know about the Nazi party.

 

Cas flipped his laptop around, then turned it back to face him, just long enough for Dean to take a glance at the screen. “I’m writing a book, and one of the topics kind of covered in it is World War II.”

 

“Hmm,” Dean said, interested. “Well, just so you know, you probably look kind of weird sitting here with a book about Nazis next to you. Just saying,” he finished, leaning back, arms raised defensively.

 

Cas’s eyes widened, and a blush began to slowly creep onto his face. He hastily shoved his books into the messenger bag that was slung across the back of his seat, then took a glance around the café. Dean looked around with him, and they both could see that no one was looking at the weirdly or anything. They were all keeping to themselves, eating their pastries, sipping their coffees.

 

“Were people looking at me weird earlier?” Cas asked in a hushed but firm tone, causing Dean to turn back and look at him.

 

“No,” Dean said, trying to be serious. It didn’t work, though; he started laughing as soon as he saw the bewildered look on Cas’s face. “I just did that—to mess with you,” he explained, his words a little broken up through fits of laughter.

 

Dean expected Cas to seem a little upset by what Dean said, but instead, Cas laughed and said, “Whatever. It’s fine.”

 

Dean nodded, a little confused, but he decided not to say anything about that anymore. “So, uh,” he started to say, trying to change the subject, “what is your story about?”

 

“Um…” Cas trailed off, suddenly looking nervous. He tapped the trackpad on his laptop a few times—probably saving his work and shutting his computer down—then flipped it shut. “I don’t really know how to explain, and I’m also not sure if I’m allowed to share anything about it. My agent’s kind of strict and—”

 

“Hey, it’s fine,” Dean assured him, cutting him off before he could go off on a tangent. “I don’t need to know. I was just merely curious.”

 

Cas took a deep breath, shoulders rising and falling as he did so. “Thank you. And, if you really did want to know about it, it’s a historical fiction novel about a few different time periods—World War II in Germany, the 1920s, the Great Depression, the American Revolution, and the Victorian Era.” He sighed as he slid his laptop into his bag, looking tired and discouraged. “It’s a lot of work, and I have way too many notes on all these different time periods, but I’m making it work.”

 

“Well,” Dean started, grinning, “good luck! Honestly, writing sounds like something I could never do. That’s why I run this place.” He gestured around the café, indicating the expanse of tables with customers enjoying the company of others or just doing their own thing.

 

When Dean looked back at Cas, he had a small smile on his face, like he was admiring Dean’s accomplishments.

 

“Okay,” Cas said, standing up and slinging his bag over his shoulder, “I have to leave if I want to get to the library before it closes.” He grabbed his coffee cups and opened his wallet to pay for the second coffee.”

 

“No, no, no!” Dean said frantically. “The coffee is on me!”

 

Cas frowned a little, slowly starting to close his wallet. “You sure?”

 

Dean nodded. “Yeah. Consider it my treat.”

 

“Well, if you’re sure…” Cas trailed off, sliding his wallet back into his jacket pocket. “I’ll leave, then.”

 

“It was nice meeting you!” Dean called after Cas, waving at his retreating back.

 

“You, too!” Cas called back, turning back to face Dean quickly so he could wave. He turned back and threw away his empty coffee cup, then walked out the door, drinking his other coffee as he went.

 

Dean stood in the middle of the customer area smiling and waving at someone who wasn’t there. When he realized what he was doing, he quickly dropped his hand, then spun around and headed back behind the counter to take people’s orders.

 

“Someone have a crush?” Charlie teased as soon as Dean walked up to the register next to her.

 

“What?” Dean asked, completely taken off-guard. “Yes—no—I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

 

Charlie threw her head back and laughed. “Okay…” she drawled. “If you say so.” She turned away from him and started taking care of the next customer in line.

 

Dean stared at her in bewilderment for a few seconds, then turned towards his register and turned it on. “I just wish I had gotten his number,” he said before helping a customer.

 

* * *

 

 

Cas made his way down the street, holding the strap of his bag as a force of habit. He checked his phone quickly, making sure that he still had plenty of time to get to the library before it closed.

 

As he looked down at the almost-finished cup of coffee he had in his hand, he started thinking about Dean. He was nice, and Cas wished that he had gotten his number before he left. He could just go by the next day and ask for Dean’s number. He would need coffee anyway, so he might as well kill two birds with one stone.

 

He shook his head, laughing at himself for being stupid. It’s not like he would have enough courage to ask for Dean’s number, so why even try?

 

Cas tipped his head back, draining the rest of his coffee, then dropped his empty cup into the nearest trash can. He looked ahead of him, hands stuffed in the pockets of his tan trench coat, and made his way down the street.

 

About ten minutes later, he arrived at his destination: his favorite local library. He jogged up the stairs and, once at the top, shoved the glass door open, already taking in the smell of books that was so familiar to him.

 

“Hey, Cas,” Kevin said, looking up from his computer to greet Cas.

 

“Hi, Kevin,” Cas replied, giving the kid a warm smile as he passed by. “I’m gonna renew a few books, but can I do that when I come back?”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Kevin answered, then looked down at his computer. He pulled a notebook over towards him and jotted something down.

 

“What are you doing?” Cas asked, tilting his head to the side.

 

Kevin lifted his head, surprised by the question. “Oh,” he started. “It’s my history homework. It’s a lot of work. Advanced Placement and all that…”

 

Cas nodded. “Well, good luck.” He smiled again, then turned away from the front desk, starting to head to the section of the library he needed.

 

When he got over there, he immediately started skimming the shelves, looking for anything useful to his novel. He ran his finger along the books’ spines, still searching.

 

Eventually, he stumbled upon _Last Call: The Rise and Fall of Prohibition_ by Daniel Okrent. He pulled it off the shelf, tucking it under his arm, then also grabbed _New World Coming: The 1920s and the Making of Modern America_ by Nathan Miller, adding it to the small pile.

 

Cas continued strolling through the library, hoping that maybe he could find something else about the American Revolution. Instead, he found himself in a section filled with books about famous musicians and bands. He found himself pulling _When Giants Walked the Earth: A Biography of Led Zeppelin_ by Mick Wall off the shelf.

 

Instead of adding the book to his pile, he slid it back onto the shelf. He wouldn’t have time to read it between writing his novel and doing tons of research for it. He did, however, make a mental note to download some Led Zeppelin songs as soon as he got home.

 

“All done?” Kevin asked as Cas dropped his two books on the counter. He slid them towards himself and scanned them in, then scanned in Cas’s library card that he found next to the pile.

 

“Uh, yeah,” Cas said. “But,” he added, digging through his bag, “I wanted to renew these two.” He set a book about the Great Depression and one about the Victorian Era on the counter. Kevin scanned them in, then slid four books and a library card back across the counter.

 

“Thank you,” Cas said, grabbing the books and library card, sliding them into their respectable places in his bag.

 

“You’re welcome,” Kevin said. He sighed. “I still have homework to finish, but thankfully barely anyone has been through here all afternoon.”

 

Cas’s shoulders sank. “You’re kidding.”

 

Kevin shook his head. “Unfortunately. But what can you do?”

 

Cas rolled his eyes, turning away from the counter as he did so. “Yeah, really,” he called over his shoulder. “Bye, Kevin. Have a good night.”

 

“You too, Cas,” Kevin answered. “And good luck with your book.”

 

“Thank you,” Cas said gratefully as he shoved open the door to the library. He stepped outside and wrapped his trench coat around himself tightly, surprised by the sudden, unexpected cold.

He walked home that way, only stopping to take out his key so he could open the door to his apartment complex, then the door to his own apartment.

 

“Hey, Shadow,” Cas said as he opened the door, immediately being jumped by his little Bombay cat. She rubbed her head against Cas’s leg, and Cas had to gently nudge her away so he wouldn’t step on her as he put his coat away.

 

Cas walked across the room, dropping his bag on the ground before collapsing onto the couch. He pulled out his phone and checked the time: 9:30 p.m. Not late, but not really early.

 

Shadow jumped on the couch next to him, and Cas started stroking her head as he leaned forward and grabbed his earbuds from the coffee table.

 

“I’d listen to this without earbuds, but I think you’re trying to sleep,” Cas whispered, lightly stroking Shadow’s head. She purred, then closed her eyes, content.

 

Cas turned his phone over, quickly searching for his music store app. He clicked on it, searched for Led Zeppelin, and downloaded a few albums. He put his earbuds in, then opened his music app.

 

Cas leaned back. He stayed there for a few hours, feet up on the coffee table, Shadow next to him, Led Zeppelin filtering through his ears.


	2. Chapter 2

Cas pushed the door to Whole Latte Love open, taking in the fresh scent of coffee beans and baked goods. He glanced around the room and, even though he had been there the day before, the friendly and contemporary atmosphere still surprised him.

 

He stepped forward and got into line behind what seemed to be at least twenty other customers. He figured that, though Dean had been thoughtful enough to bring him coffee, a coffee shop isn’t supposed to be run that way. Baristas don’t normally go out to the tables to take people’s orders. Dean was just being nice, or whatever went on. Cas didn’t know.

 

As Cas waited for about fifteen minutes in line to order, he checked his phone, noticing that he received a text from his boss saying that he didn’t have to go to work next Monday. Cas smiled a bit to himself, then turned off his phone and shoved it into his pocket, suddenly realizing that he had made it to the front of the line.

 

“Good morning. Welcome to Whole Latte Love. What would you like to order?” the employee asked, her voice dry, devoid of emotion. It was early; Cas could give her a break.

 

“Hi,” Cas said, giving the woman a smile. “I would like a medium coffee with cream, please.”

 

The woman—Cas saw that her name tag read Charlie—tapped the register’s screen a few times, and then Cas’s order popped up with the price.

 

“That will be three dollars,” Charlie announced, finally looking away from the cash register, at Cas. Her eyes widened a bit, like she recognized him, but Cas had no clue who she was. “Uh, sorry,” she stammered as soon as she realized that Cas was staring at her.

 

“It’s fine,” Cas assured her. “Can I actually add a croissant onto my order?”

 

“Of course.” Charlie tapped the screen a few more times. “Four dollars and thirty cents, please.”

 

Cas nodded as he dug through his wallet, pulling out the exact amount of change and handing it to Charlie. He then pulled out a dollar bill and stuffed it in the tip jar, making a note to himself to do that more often because he’s never actually seen someone tip the employees at a coffee shop.

 

“Thanks for ordering,” Charlie said, pulling Cas out of his thoughts. She handed Cas a small, paper bag, and Cas took it. It was warm; the croissants must have just recently come out of the oven.

 

“And thank  _ you _ for the croissant,” Cas replied, inclining his head to the woman. He walked down to the other end of the counter so he could grab his coffee, Charlie not even opening her mouth to tell him to do so.

 

Cas stood at the other end of the counter, tapping his foot lightly against the floor. He wasn’t annoyed for the wait, mainly because he knew that making good coffee takes time; he was just kind of bored, and he needed something to do.

 

“Order for Castiel!” called an employee that Cas hadn’t seen the day before. Cas stepped forward and took his coffee with a smile and a “thank you.”

 

As Cas walked around in search for a table to sit at, he was suddenly struck with the thought that he hadn’t even given Charlie his name. He wasn’t sure how she knew his name. Suddenly, he remembered why Charlie knew him. Dean had been talking to her the day before, and then he had come over to Cas’s table to talk. Cas figured that Dean must have told Charlie about him, but why, though, Cas wasn’t sure.

 

Cas sat down at a small table in the corner of the room, made for up to two people to sit at. He felt bad that he had taken a larger table the day before, but it had been the only table left open, as far as he had been aware.

 

He sat down and took his bag off his shoulder, setting it on the ground next to him, on the side closer to the wall. He decided not to get his laptop out just yet, or any of his books for that matter. He just sat there, drinking his coffee, enjoying the sight of people walking outside. He would sometimes try to make up people’s life stories, but he didn’t feel like doing that today; it was way more fun when he did it with someone else, anyway.

 

Eventually, he set down his coffee, a fair amount still left in the cardboard cup. He leaned over and unzipped his bag, pulling out his laptop, a notebook, a pen, and one of his books about World War II. He shoved his laptop to the farthest corner of the table so he would have enough room to spread out his notes, and then he set his coffee cup next to it, hoping that neither of them would fall off the table.

 

Cas sighed as he flipped his notebook open to a fresh page, titling it with the date and the title of the book. He opened the book to the index and found a section that he needed to thoroughly research: the Battle of Britain. No matter how hard he tried, he could never gather enough information on the subject, and he hoped that the book sitting in front of him would help him out with that.

 

About fifteen minutes later, Cas threw down his pen, then slapped his hand over it so it wouldn’t bounce off the table and out into the café. He sighed deeply and grabbed his cup of coffee, tilting his head back and taking a swig from it like he would if he were drinking shots at a bar. He set it back down on the table and picked his pen back up again so he could continue to take notes.

He sighed and rolled his eyes at his notebook. It was going to be a long afternoon at that rate.

 

* * *

 

Dean walked downstairs, tying his apron on as he went. He pulled his nametag out of the front pocket and pinned it over the right side of his chest, looking down at it to make sure he had it on correctly.

 

“Hey, Charlie,” he smiled, stopping next to Charlie. She had been taking a quick break to refill the napkin dispenser, but now she was standing behind the second cash register, hand poised over the power button to turn it back on.

 

“Hi, Dean,” Charlie replied. Her hand fell away from the power button as she turned to face Dean so she could greet him face-to-face. “How nice of you to finally show up to work.”

 

Dean rolled his eyes. “I’m the boss. Besides,” he added, “I technically don’t have to start work for another hour.”

 

Charlie rolled her eyes back at Dean. “Whatever,” she said, turning to the register and turning it on.”

 

“Have fun,” Dean said, starting to back away from Charlie and move towards the coffee machines.

 

“By the way, your friend Cas is here,” Charlie called over her shoulder as a customer stepped forward to take their order.

 

Dean stopped short a few feet away from the coffee machine. He spun around and looked around the seating area, his glance jumping from person to person until it caught on Cas, sitting alone towards the back of the room. He was hunched over two books, hands on his hand, the pen in his right hand digging into his scalp.

 

“Hey, Garth,” Dean said, tapping the guy on the shoulder. “Can you take over brewing the coffee for a second?”

 

Garth turned towards the coffee machines. “Yeah, of course,” he complied.

 

“Thanks,” Dean muttered, but he was already making his way out from behind the counter. As he passed by some of his customers, he could see they were glaring at and shooting dirty looks toward the back of the café. They were annoyed at Cas, but Dean wasn’t sure why.

 

As soon as Dean got closer to Cas, he figured out why. Cas was sighing rather loudly, and he seemed to be annoying some of the other customers. Dean couldn’t see that anyone had left yet, but some looked like they were very close to at least complaining. One guy looked ready to get up and strangle Cas.

 

“Are you trying to scare my customers away?” Dean jokingly asked as he sat down in the seat across from Cas.

 

“What?” Cas startled, jumping up a bit. His pen fell out of his hand, and Dean grabbed it before it fell off the table. He reached across the table and snatched the pen away from Dean, then set it down on the table next to his notebook.

 

Dean threw his head back and laughed. “I’m sorry, that was just too damn funny.” He took a deep breath, trying to contain his laughter, then continued. “Some of my customers seem to be annoyed by you, and I thought I should tell you before I start losing customers.”

 

Cas looked down at the tables, cheeks reddening. “Sorry,” he muttered, and Dean could barely hear him because it seemed he was talking to the table rather than Dean.

 

Dean snorted. “I was  _ joking _ ,” he explained, reaching across the table to tap Cas’s arm.

 

“Oh,” Cas said, looking up. His cheeks were even redder than before. He took a deep breath, trying to school his features. “Uh, sorry again. If I had realized that I was going to be this annoyed at my research, I would have stayed home.”

 

“Nah, it’s fine,” Dean assured him, shrugging. “Just try not to annoy my customers. And I’m not saying that just for my sake.” He gestured over his shoulder. “That guy over there looked like he wanted to rip your head off.”

 

Cas craned his neck around and looked at the guy. He was glaring at Cas with so much intensity, it seemed like he was trying to kill Cas with his mind. Cas turned back and picked up his pen, nervously tapping it on his notebook. “Oh,” he said quietly, nervous and ashamed. “I didn’t realize.”

 

Dean shrugged. “Like I said, it’s fine. Let’s talk about something other than people wanting to kill you.” He reached forward and picked up the book Cas was reading. “World War II, huh?” He skimmed through the page that Cas had been reading from, raising his eyebrows, impressed and confused at the same time.

 

“What?” Cas asked, cocking his head to the side.

 

“Nothing, nothing,” Dean said, flipping through the pages. He went back to the page Cas had been reading and set the book back on the table in front of Cas. “It’s just interesting. I didn’t know a lot of that.”

 

Cas shrugged. “I mean, a lot of people don’t know a lot of the fine details of historical events. Most just know a few key facts, enough to get them by, but that’s about it.” He shrugged again, then let out a quiet sigh as he flipped his book shut. He closed his notebook as well, then put everything—book, notebook, pen, and laptop—back into his bag. He sat back up and asked, “Did you like history when you went to school?”

 

Dean nodded. “Yeah. I did, actually.” He shrugged. “I don’t know. I kinda wished I paid attention more in school.”

 

Cas stared at him. “Just history? Or every subject?”

 

Dean slowly slid down in his chair. He braced his hand on the sides of his chair and pushed himself back up until he was seated properly. “Yeah. I guess so.” He sighed, then glanced over his shoulder to see if the guy who was glaring at Cas earlier was now glaring at him. He turned back and confided, “I guess I just want to be as smart as my little brother Sammy. Maybe not as smart as him, but pretty damn smart I guess.”

 

“Your brother’s that smart, then?” Cas asked, intrigued.

 

“Yeah,” Dean said, his face suddenly turning bright. “Yeah. He’s studying at Stanford now, and he’s gonna go to law school and become some fancy, successful lawyer.” Dean smiled a bit, just to himself. “I’m not jealous of him, though. I’m actually pretty damn proud of him.”

 

Cas smiled along. He may not know Sam, but he can still be proud of him for making Dean feel proud.

 

“I mean, this kid is probably blowing people away out in California. He blew everyone away out here, and now he’s with a bunch of really smart people. He’s where he belongs.” Dean smiled again. “I kind of miss him, though. He’s book smart, but I could always mess with him and convince him of things that aren’t true.”

 

“Well, he sounds like an interesting kid. I hope you’re not making him sound cooler than he actually is, because that would be very disappointing.”

 

“Nah,” Dean said. “He really is that great. But don’t tell him. He’d probably kill me if he heard me bragging about him.”

 

Cas mock-saluted him. “Noted.”

 

The two sat in silence for a few short moments, unsure of what to say. Cas flipped his phone over to check the time, jumping at what he read on the screen.

 

“What?” Dean asked, perplexed.

 

“Hmm?” Cas said. “Oh, right. The time. I have to leave for work shortly. My boss doesn’t really care if I’m late, but I always make sure to be there on time anyway.”

 

“Where do you work?” Dean asked, genuine curiosity on his face. “And, not to be accusatory, why didn’t you tell me before? Yesterday?”

 

Cas shrugged. “I don’t know. Sometimes I forget about when I don’t have work. I don’t really like it that much, but it pays the bills.” He paused. “Oh, and I work at the grocery store down the street.”

 

“Doing well there?”

 

Cas shrugged once again. “Eh. It’s fine. It’s not the best job, but I do well at it, and my boss wants to promote me.”

 

“Well, that’s good,” Dean said. “I’d love a promotion, but… I’m kinda my own boss so that would be awkward.”

 

Cas laughed. “Well,” he leaned down to grab his bag, “with that, I should probably leave before I’m late for the first time ever.” He slung his bag over his shoulder and stood up, making sure to grab his coffee and his phone before he left without them. “Bye,” Cas called over his shoulder, throwing a grin at Dean that he hoped he saw.

 

“Wait,” Dean said frantically, standing up and pressing a hand to Cas’s arm, making sure he didn’t leave just yet. “I didn’t get your number and I just figured… Never mind, it’s stupid.”

 

Cas turned around and was met by a very red-faced Dean. He was either nervous or embarrassed, but Cas wasn’t entirely certain. “No, no, no,” Cas said. “It’s fine.” He pulled out his phone and opened the contacts app, starting a new contact and handing the phone over to Dean. Dean typed in his number, then handed the phone back to Cas.

 

“Text me so I can get your number,” Dean said, more of a statement than a question.

 

“Of course,” Cas answered, closing out of the contacts app and turning his phone off. “I’ll do that. Goodbye, Dean.”

 

“Bye, Cas,” Dean said, waving at Cas as he turned towards the door and left the café, sipping his coffee as he went.

 

Cas walked down the street a bit, on his way to the grocery store for work. He changed into his uniform in the bathroom really quickly, punched in his time, and then made his way to the cash register. He talked to the customers as usual, but his mind was somewhere else entirely.

 

* * *

 

Dean kept looking up every time the door opened, expecting Cas to walk through the door and up to the counter to order coffee. Cas had been coming to the café every day for the past week, so Dean figured that it was going to become something that happened all the time.

 

“Looking for Cas?” Charlie teased, sidling up next to Dean, nudging his side with her elbow. “He’ll be here. You know,” she added, “I think you might have made him become addicted to coffee. I was talking to him one day he was here, and he told me that he’s never really liked coffee until he started drinking the stuff we make here. He said something about how he just drank it because it gave him energy to do stuff.”

 

Dean snorted. “Sounds like something he would say.”

 

Charlie patted Dean on the shoulder. “Well,” she said, taking a half-step back, “I’ve gotta go fill up the napkins because people have been making a lot of messes today and we’re almost out.”

 

“Hmm,” Dean mused, nodding. “Well, go have fun.” As Charlie walked away, Dean called over his shoulder for one of his employees to take over the register as he worked on making people’s orders. He suddenly didn’t feel like talking to the customers.

 

Fifteen minutes and at least ten orders later, Dean looked up and scanned the sitting area. He saw a lot of his usual customers, plus a few new people he didn’t recognize, but he hoped he could get to know them at some point. Finally, his eyes latched on a familiar pair of blue eyes. Cas. His eyes traveled over Cas, and he noticed that he was wearing a Led Zeppelin tee-shirt.

 

“Charlie!” Dean called as she walked by, carrying a pile of dirty napkins. “Can you make orders for me?”

 

Charlie nodded. “Yeah. Let me just throw this out. I’ve been cleaning up someone’s mess for the past fifteen minutes or whatever with these dumb napkins that  _ suck _ .” She looked up at Dean after saying the last word. “Please get better napkins, Dean. We can’t live like this.”

 

Dean waved her off. “Yeah, sure. In your dreams. Just please take orders. I wanna talk to Cas.”

 

Charlie dumped her trash in the trashcan, then stood up and shrugged. “Okay. Fine. Whatever.”

 

Dean said goodbye to Charlie, then walked out into the dining area of his coffee shop. He crossed the path from the ordering counter to the table in the back where Cas always sat in a few seconds. He slid into the seat across from Cas with a huge smile on his face.

 

“Hi, Dean,” Cas said, looking up from his phone to meet Dean’s eyes. “How are you?”

 

“I didn’t know you were listening to Led Zeppelin!” Dean exclaimed, unable to think of anything else until he said that.

 

Cas looked down at his shirt. “Oh, yeah. I’ve been listening to them ever since you told me how great they are. They are pretty great, by the way. I like their music.”

 

Dean tried to say something in response, but for some reason he wasn’t able to form full words. He squealed a bit, then walked around the table so he could sit next to Cas. He pulled out his phone, plugged in his earbuds, and opened up his music app, selecting his top thirteen Zepp playlist. He handed an earbud to Cas, sticking the other one in his ear, and pressed play.

 

The two didn’t say anything for a while, not until after three songs had played. Cas had grabbed his coffee to drink, and by the time they were done listening to some songs, Cas set down his coffee cup, now empty of Dean’s coffee.

 

“How was that?” Dean asked, pulling the earbuds out of both of their ears and wrapping them up. He shoved the earbuds into the front pocket of his apron and set his phone on the table, just for the time being.

 

Cas pointed to the empty coffee cup and said, “It was good. You know this, Dean. You know I love the coffee here.”

 

Dean snorted and rolled his eyes. “You know what I meant.”

 

“Yes,” Cas said, stifling a laugh. “The music was lovely, by the way.”

 

Suddenly, Cas jumped back as a cup of coffee was placed in front of him, then one in front of Dean. He looked up and was met by Charlie’s friendly face.

 

“Hey, guys!” Charlie said, waving. “I figured you might want some coffee, though it seems that Cas already has some coffee.”

 

Cas grabbed his original cup, tipping it a bit. “Nah,” he said, shaking the now-empty coffee cup. “I finished it.”

 

Charlie shrugged. “Oh, well, I’m sure you’ll appreciate another cup of coffee. I’ll let you in a little secret,” she added, leaning down so her face was just about level with Cas’s. “The coffee here is really good, and it’s worth it to have multiple cups.”

 

Cas nodded, picking up his new cup of coffee. “All right, well, thank you,” he said, raising his cup to Charlie like he was about to give a toast.

 

“You’re welcome, Cas,” Charlie smiled. She pointedly said the same to Dean, then added, “Get back to work soon, Dean. Just because you’re the boss doesn’t mean you get to take breaks whenever you want.”

 

“Actually,” Dean said, sitting up, “it kind of does. But I will get back to work. Just give me a few seconds.”

 

Charlie rolled her eyes and walked away, heading back to the counter to take orders.

 

Dean was about to take a sip of coffee, but he paused, the cup halfway to his lips. He set it down on the table, next to his phone, and asked, “Don’t you have to leave for work or something?”

 

Cas snorted, rolling his eyes and taking a sip of his coffee. It was still a little hot, but he didn’t mind. “No,” he answered, setting down his coffee cup and picking up his phone. He turned it on so Dean could see the date. “It’s Sunday, Dean. I don’t have work on Sundays.”

 

Dean’s cheeks turned a little red. “Right. Well, then, I guess you  _ don’t  _ have to leave for work.”

 

Cas nodded. “But I probably should leave, actually,” he clarified, frowning. “My manuscript is due in less than twenty-four hours, and I still have more to work on than I probably should at this point.”

 

“Shit,” Dean cursed. “Well, I guess you should go, then. Um, take some coffee, and listen to Zepp as you finish up, please.”

 

Cas picked up his two coffee cups and grinned. “Sounds like a plan.” He picked up his phone and slid it into his pocket before he forgot about it and left it on the table. “Goodbye, Dean. I’ll see you soon.”

 

“Of course,” Dean replied, a small smile on his face. “Good luck with your manuscript.”

 

“Thank you,” Cas answered as he left the coffee shop, turning to give Dean one last smile before Dean couldn’t see him anymore.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Dean looked up as the bell above the door rang, noticing that Cas finally walked in. He was later than normal, but Dean thought it was fine. He probably just slept in a little because he had been coming in super early during the course of the week. Cas had said something about having to fill in for one of his co-workers because they quit without any warning and they couldn’t get a replacement fast enough.

 

Cas sat down at his usual table and set a stack of papers down in front of him. Dean strained to see what they were, but then Cas made an annoyed sound and laid his head down on it so Dean couldn’t see it.

 

“Go talk to him,” Charlie whispered, leaning her head over Dean’s shoulder. She accidentally got a mass of her red hair in Dean’s face, but he really didn’t care at that moment. “He looks distressed.”

 

Dean nodded, and Charlie lightly shoved him towards the table Cas was sitting at. Dean walked over the rest of the way and slid into the seat across from his friend.

 

“Hi, Cas!” Dean said brightly, hoping that would cheer Cas up. When it didn’t, Dean opted for something else. “Hey, buddy. Are you all right? What’s wrong?” Dean leaned forward a little and gently lifted Cas’s head up.

 

Cas sighed, leaning away from Dean and flipping through the stack of papers sitting on the table. “This,” he said, pointing to the pile. “This is what’s wrong.”

 

Dean slid the pile of papers over towards himself and silently thumbed through it, taking note of the many words written on the pages. “Is this your manuscript?” he asked, shuffling the papers back in order and handing the stack over to Cas.

 

Cas nodded and sighed again. “Yeah. It is.”

 

“Well, what’s the problem?” Dean asked, slightly confused by Cas’s upset attitude. It was so different from how he normally was over the last month.

 

“Apparently it’s not ‘good enough,’ according to my editor,” Cas answered, actually using air quotes in his response.

 

Dean wrinkled his nose. “Well, your editor can go fu—”

 

“Dean,” Cas said as a warning. “You don’t even know what he said about my book.”

 

“But, Cas, whatever he said, I’m sure it was dumb,” Dean protested. “So, yeah, he can go fuck himself.”

 

“Dean!” Cas exclaimed. “Stop!” He took a deep breath and glanced up at Dean, who looked very surprised by Cas’s outburst. “There’s a reason my book isn’t good enough. He said that I did good research on the time periods I used in the story, but it was difficult to see them as real.”

 

“Well,” Dean said, “a lot of writers have troubles like this, right? Not every draft is perfect.”

 

Cas sighed loudly and ran his hands over his face. “I know, Dean. I know that. But this has been happening for the last five drafts. No matter how much research I do, no matter how many different ways I write the scenes that I had trouble with, it never turns out the way my editor wants them to.” Cas planted his head on the table and knocked his forehead against it a few times. “I don’t know what to do,” he muttered, and Dean didn’t know if Cas was talking to himself or Dean.

 

Dean tapped his chin, thoughts cycling through his mind. “I might be able to help you,” he said. “Just… give me a few seconds. I’ll get you a coffee, but I need to call someone first.”

 

“All… right?” Cas asked hesitantly. “Do I get a hint about what you may or may not be able to do to help me?” He looked up at Dean and smiled, hoping that would get Dean to at least tell him  _ something _ .

 

Dean snorted. “Nope,” he said, then turned away from Cas and walked back behind the counter. When he got there, Charlie clapped him on the shoulder and dragged him to the very back of the restaurant.

 

“Is Cas okay?” Charlie asked, standing on her toes and stealing a glance at Cas. “He seems a little better now, but he also seemed pissed at you earlier.”

 

Dean rolled his eyes. “That’s because I wasn’t listening to him.” Dean pulled his phone out of his pocket and punched in his brother’s number. “Can you make Cas a cup of coffee? I can take it out to him, but I just need to call Sammy real quick beforehand.:

 

“Yeah,” Charlie said distractedly, already turning away to begin making Cas’s coffee. Dean gave her a small smile before heading to the very back of the store, out of the view of the customers, and called his brother.

 

“What?” Sam said over the phone. “I’m studying for my test.”

 

“Calm down, Sammy,” Dean said. “I just wanted to ask you something.”

 

On the other end of the line, Dean could hear Sam sigh and shut what was probably a very, very heavy textbook filled with the fancy knowledge crap he was learning at Stanford. “What are you going to ask me, dare I ask? Don’t you dare steal any of my stuff!”

 

Dean scoffed. “Like I would want any of your crap. Anyway,” he continued, “I just wanted to ask if I could let one of my friends know about our… family secret. You’re the only other person in this family, so I figured I should ask you.”

 

Sam stayed quiet for a while, and Dean started to grow concerned. “Sam?” Dean asked. “Are you… gonna say something?”

 

“What friend?” Sam inquired, his voice slow and somewhat annoyed.

 

“You don’t know him,” Dean said, unsure if he should continue talking. He wasn’t sure if Sam would say yes if he added the fact that he had only known Cas for a month. “Uh…”

 

“You made a new friend? I’m actually really surprised!” On the other end of the line, Sam laughed. “What’s his name? When did you meet him?”

 

Dean swallowed and stared at the far wall, mentally making a note to reorganize the extra cups and coffee grounds bags back there. “His name’s Cas. I only met him about a month ago, but he’s already one of the best friends I’ve ever had. He’s having trouble with the book he’s writing, and I think I can help him.”

 

Sam didn’t say anything, presumably thinking. “Okay. Also, you know what, I’m coming over. Don’t explain it to him until I get there. You’re terrible at explaining stuff.”

 

“Okay, you know what—” Dean protested, but he was cut off.

 

“Sorry, can’t hear you!” Sam said. “I’m hanging up.” This was followed with a beep and then silence.

 

Dean breathed, in then out. “Thank  _ god _ ,” he whispered to himself. He turned off his phone and headed back to the counter. Charlie handed him the coffee she had made for Cas, and Dean thanked her before heading back out to Cas’s table. He found Cas staring at the window, watching as raindrops raced each other down the glass.

 

“It’s raining,” Cas said, sounding distracted.

 

“Wow, no kidding,” Dean replied, sitting down across from Cas with a smile. He slid the hot, steaming cup of coffee over towards Cas as he turned to look at Dean.

 

“I don’t need your sass, Dean. But thank you,” Cas added, holding up his coffee cup.

 

“You’re welcome,” Dean answered. “So… I talked to my brother, and it seems that I will be able to help you. It has to do with time—” Dean cut himself off. He looked around the café, taking in the faces of people he didn’t know he’d be able to trust if they somehow overheard what Dean wanted to say to Cas.

 

“It has to do with  _ what _ ?” Cas pressed, taking another sip of coffee. He looked across the table and raised an eyebrow at Dean.

 

“Um…” Dean hesitated. “You know what, I’ll tell you later. My brother’s coming over to help me explain, but he’s probably going to take over because I’m ‘shit at explaining shit’ according to him.” Dean rolled his eyes. “Whatever. He’s better with his words. It’s why he’s at Stanford now and I never went to college.”

 

Cas stared at him. “You can’t just tell me one little think about it? Just a word or two?”

 

“I’m sorry.” Dean frowned. He looked around again at the café around them. Yeah, he definitely wouldn’t be able to say anything down there. “I’m not comfortable saying anything down here, just in case somebody here isn’t trustworthy and finds out about it.” Dean sighed and stood up. “Are you okay coming up to my apartment?”

 

“Uh, sure,” Cas said. He shoved his manuscript into his bag, grabbed his coffee cup, and stood up. Dean nodded and started walking back behind the counter, beckoning Cas to follow after him.

 

“I’m done with work for the day,” he told Charlie as he passed by. “When Sam comes in, don’t ask him to help out down here. Send him right upstairs.”

 

“All right,” Charlie said. She waved at Cas. “Hi, Cas!”

 

Cas turned. “Oh. Hello, Charlie. How are you?”

 

“Good, good,” Charlie responded. “I have to get back to work, unlike  _ Dean _ —” she gave Dean a pointed look—“but I am doing well nonetheless.”

 

“Bye, Charlie,” Dean said, tapping Cas on the shoulder so he would follow Dean up the stairs to his apartment.

 

Once upstairs, Dean pulled off his apron and kicked off his shoes, leaving everything by the front door. He closed the door as soon as Cas entered the apartment and lead him over to the couch to sit down.

 

“It’s nice in here,” Cas said, sitting down and glancing around the room again. He grabbed a coaster and set his coffee cup down on the table in front of him. “And it smells like coffee,” he added with a smile.

 

Dean snorted. “Yeah. Perks of living above where I work.” He looked around like Cas had just been doing, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I do love it here. The apartment is the perfect size for me, and it’s so convenient living right where I work. If I wake up late, I don’t have to worry about being late due to traffic or public transportation.”

 

“Yeah, that’s always nice,” Cas laughed. He didn’t add anything else, and the two of them stayed silent for a while.

 

“So, uh…” Dean started, trying to break the awkward silence. “My brother will be here in about an hour. Do you wanna watch TV till then? I think Dr. Sexy is on right now.”

 

Cas rolled his eyes. “You can put it on, but I have to warn you—I kinda hate that show.”

 

Dean paused in the middle of reaching for the remote. “What?” He turned to Cas, flabbergasted. “What did you just say?”

 

“I’m sorry,” Cas said, not sounding sorry at all. He sat back in his seat, then leaned over to grab his coffee cup from the table. “I’ve just never really liked it that much. Something about the cheesiness and the overdramatic-ness.” He settled back into his seat and took a sip of his coffee, raising his eyebrows in a matter-of-fact manner.

 

Dean looked like he was about to protest, but he decided against it. He sat back next to Cas and turned the TV on, flipping to the channel he wanted. “Whatever. I’m still watching. If you don’t like it, oh well. It’s my house.”

 

* * *

 

Almost two hours later, Dean heard a knock at the door, and then a key in the lock being turned. Dean’s younger brother, Sam, walked into the apartment and closed the door behind him, giving a smile to the two hanging out, watching TV, on the couch.

 

“Uh, hey,” Sam said, dropping his keys back in his pocket and heading over to the couch so he could sit down.

 

“You’re late,” Dean said, barely looking up from the screen to greet his brother.

 

“And you’re watching… Dr. Sexy,” Sam replied with a sigh. He turned to Cas. “I’m sorry he’s making you watch this… uh.” He glanced at Cas. “I’m sorry, I forgot your name.”

 

Cas smiled and held his hand out to Sam. “It’s fine. Hi, I’m Castiel.”

 

Sam smiled politely back. “Uh, hi, Castiel. I’m Sam, Dean’s younger brother.”

 

“I know,” Cas answered. “He likes talking about you a lot.”

 

Sam looked over at Dean, who shrugged, then back to Cas. “Not all bad, I hope.”

 

“All good, I swear,” Cas said. “He likes to brag that you’re out at Stanford being ‘all smart and shit.’” He actually used the air quotes, which surprised Sam.

 

“Oh, okay. That’s good, then,” Sam said. He turned to Dean, having enough of hearing the TV. “Can you please turn that show off? I can’t stand it, and you know that.”

 

Dean frowned, but he reluctantly reached over to grab the remote and turn the TV off. “Happy now?”

 

Sam rolled his eyes. “Yes. Thank you.”

 

“You’re welcome, bitch,” Dean answered, sitting up.

 

“Whatever, jerk,” replied Sam. “So, this time travel stuff,” he started, cracking his knuckles and wincing.

 

Cas sat up, eyes wide. “Wait, what?”

 

Sam turned to look at him, then glanced over at Dean. “You—you didn’t at least tell him  _ that _ , Dean?”

 

“Uh, no,” Dean admitted, scratching the back of his head. “Look, you said to wait for you to arrive to say anything, so that’s what I did.” Dean folded his arms over his chest, defiant. “Anyway, you just told him, so I don’t see the point of fighting about this.”

 

“Whatever,” Sam muttered, leaning back in his chair and grabbing a beer from the table where Dean had placed them about an hour earlier. “Let’s start talking about this then.”

 

* * *

 

Cas had been listening intently as Sam and Dean—mainly Sam because it was entirely true that Dean was “shit at explaining shit”—explained how time traveling worked.

 

“So,” Sam started to say in a finalizing way, “that’s basically it. I mean, it really isn’t that much different from the time travel in movies and books. Except we don’t have a machine. We just kinda… have the power in ourselves.”

 

Cas nodded, eyes a little wide. “O—okay. That’s actually kinda cool. You know, how it’s actually different from how mainstream media portrays it.” Cas added, muttering, “They do that with pretty much everything, though.”

 

Dean snorted. “Ain’t that the truth.”

 

“Oh, you heard that,” Cas said quietly, looking down at his hands. “Whoops.”

 

“It’s all right,” Dean said, slinging his arm across Cas’s shoulders and pulling him into an awkward side hug. “I think this is why we became friends.”

 

Cas laughed and took a sip of his coffee, finishing the rest of the cup. “Or it’s because you walked up to me in the café and started randomly talking to me.” He untangled himself from Dean’s arm, then stood up to throw his empty coffee cup in the trash.

 

“Yeah,” Dean admitted to Cas’s retreating back, rubbing the back of his neck. “Or it’s that.”

 

Cas came back over to the couch and sat down, grabbing his bag and pulling out his manuscript. He squinted down at the title page, reading a small comment his editor had made in the top, left-hand corner.

 

“Hey, Cas?” Dean asked, getting up. “Want another cup of coffee?”

 

Cas lifted his head. “Uh, sure. Thank you.” He smiled at Dean, then looked back down at the stack of papers in his lap, rubbing his brow.

 

As Dean started to walk over to the kitchen, Sam called, “You know, you could’ve offered me a cup, too.”

 

Dean stopped in his tracks and turned to face his younger brother. “Fine,” he said, “would you like some coffee, too?”

 

“Yes, please,” Sam said, flashing his brother a goofy grin.

 

Dean rolled his eyes and went over to the cabinet to grab three mugs. He set them by the coffee maker and started to work on brewing to coffee.

 

“Hey, Castiel,” Sam said. “Uh… Cas?”

 

“You can call me Cas if you want,” Cas answered, barely looking up from his papers.

 

“Okay, Cas,” Sam continued. “I was just wondering what was going on with your book that you needed the time travel help with.”

 

Cas set his manuscript aside and looked up with a sigh. “My editor has been saying for a while that the historical time periods I’m writing about don’t seem ‘real enough.’ He says that they won’t publish my book until I can fix that, so here I am, two years later, without any word of when my book is going to be published.”

 

“Oh,” Sam said. “Okay. Well, I guess Dean actually had a good idea for once in his life.”

 

“Hey!” Dean yelled over his shoulder as he poured the coffee into the three cups. “I will spit in your coffee!”

 

“Please don’t,” Sam answered, wrinkling his nose.

 

Dean rolled his eyes and poured milk into Sam’s and Cas’s cups of coffee, leaving his own without any. He picked up all three of the mugs and walked back over to the living room. He handed one to Sam, one to Cas, and kept one for himself.

 

“You know,” Dean started, addressing Cas, “it’s so weird to see one of my own coffee cups in my trashcan.”

 

“Is it?” Cas said distractedly, folding his legs under himself and setting his manuscript down on his lap, open to the last section he had been reading through. He sighed as his eyes passed over another line and the note attached, then tilted the mug to his lips and took a sip of his coffee. He held it up and commented, “This tastes just as good as the coffee downstairs.”

 

“Why, thank you,” Dean said, grinning, pressing a hand to his chest. He looked back over at Cas and his smile fell, taking in the sad, despondent look on his friend’s face. “Hey, buddy, you okay?”

 

Cas looked up. “Yeah,” he said, but it wasn’t very convincing.

 

“You sure?” Dean pressed.

 

“Yes.”

 

Dean sighed. “All right. If you say so.” He turned away from Cas and took a sip of his coffee. He fidgeted for a few seconds before swinging his legs up and propping his feet against the coffee table.

 

Cas leaned forward and set his coffee on the coffee table, directly between the edge of the table and Dean’s feet—an attempt to try to minimize the chance of an accident occurring. “Don’t knock my coffee over,” he warned Dean, very serious.

 

Dean saluted. “All right. And that goes for Sam too, right?”

 

“How the hell would I knock over Cas’s coffee?” Sam asked, giving Dean a pointed look.

 

Cas rolled his eyes. “ _ Neither  _ of you better knock over my coffee.” He settled back in his seat and went back to reading through his manuscript. Soon, however, he felt a pair of eyes trained on him and his work. He looked up and noticed Dean straining to see over Cas’s shoulder, trying to read Cas’s book. Cas moved his shoulder so it was deliberately in Dean’s way.

 

“Hey!” Dean cried out, scooting closer to Cas so he could see better.

 

Cas shuffled his papers together and lightly hit Dean on the head with it. “Go away,” he said in a joking manner, laughing.

 

Dean smiled as he returned to his own seat. “I knew I could make you feel better. But also,” he added, “could I maybe read your book?”

 

Cas hugged the stack of papers to his chest. “Absolutely not. Maybe if it’s published.”

 

“It’ll be published,” Sam interjected before Dean could say the same thing. “So, we can read it  _ when _ it’s published.”

 

Cas sighed. “Sure.”

 

Dean opened his mouth to respond, but his phone vibrated so he pulled it out and checked what was on the screen. “It’s Charlie,” he explained, typing something out, Cas assumed, in reply. “She says I’m needed downstairs. I don’t know why, though.”

 

“Well,” Cas said, “I guess have fun then.”

 

Dean got up and walked over to the closet, pulling out his apron and an extra one. “Yo, Sam, you’re helping.” He tossed the apron over to Sam, who caught it and folded it up. “You better get your ass downstairs before she comes up here and starts yelling.”

 

Sam stood up and slung the apron over his arm, rolling his eyes at his brother and opening the door. Dean gave Sam the finger just as his brother looked back at him. Sam rolled his eyes again and closed the door behind him; his footsteps could be heard heading downstairs to the café.

 

“You wanna stay up here, Cas?” Dean asked, pulling his apron over his head and tying it behind his back. “You can watch TV, or I guess you can just read your manuscript if you want.”

 

Cas nodded and grabbed the remote from the seat cushion next to him. “Sounds good,” he said.

“All right,” Dean said hesitantly. “Uh, don’t get into trouble up here.”

 

Cas snorted. “I’m not three, Dean. I’m pretty sure I can handle myself.”

 

“Right,” Dean said. “Sorry. I—I’ve just never left anyone alone in my apartment before, so this is just weird for me. But you’re a responsible adult, so I’m pretty sure I can trust you.”

 

“That’s good,” Cas said. “Now, you should probably go downstairs because I am entirely convinced that Charlie  _ will  _ come up here and drag you down there by the ears.”

 

“You’re right, Cas. I should go,” Dean said. “I’ll see you later.” With that, Dean turned away and headed downstairs, closing the door to the apartment behind him.

 

* * *

 

A few hours later, Dean walked up the stairs, wiping a rag over his face. “Hey, Cas,” he said tiredly. “There were so many people down there. We needed as many workers down there as possible.” He threw his rag onto the counter and collapsed into a seat next to Cas, throwing his arms across the back of the couch.

 

“Why were there so many people down there?” Cas asked, raising an eyebrow in confusion.

 

“It’s raining,” Dean explained. “People always come in when it’s raining as an escape to get something warm to drink or eat. It’s still raining now, but it’s not as bad. Sam’s driving home in it even though I told him not to.”

 

“Oh,” Cas said suddenly. “I should probably head home, too. I need to feed my cat.”

 

Dean hesitated. “Um, I’d really rather you didn’t. It’s still raining out and it can get pretty dangerous due to that.”

 

“You just sent your brother home,” Cas countered. He shuffled his papers together and stuck them in his bag. He stood up and slung his bag over his shoulder.

 

“Cas!” Dean protested. “Please stay. Sammy had to go home because he’s running a study group. He had to go home. I’m already worried about him. I don’t need to be worried about you too.” He grabbed onto Cas’s jacket sleeve and tugged him back over to the couch.

 

“I’ll ask a neighbor to feed Shadow,” Cas said, sitting back down and pulling out his phone. He sent out a quick text to one of his neighbors, then set his stuff down on the coffee table.

 

Dean nodded. “I don’t have a spare room, so you can take mine and I’ll take the couch.”

 

Cas shook his head. “No, no. You keep your room. I’ll sleep here for the night. Uh, do you have something I can sleep in?”

 

“Yeah,” Dean said. “I’ll go grab some sheets, a blanket, a pillow, and some sweats for you.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

“You’re welcome.” Dean pushed off the couch and headed over to his room to grab some stuff. He came back a few minutes later carrying some bedding and a change of clothes for Cas. He handed Cas the clothes and directed him to the bathroom to change while Dean set up the couch for him.

 

“Thank you for the clothing,” Cas said once he was finished changing. He came back in the room wearing a pair of dark grey sweatpants and a Led Zeppelin tee-shirt.

 

Dean stared at Cas for a few seconds before replying. “Uh, you’re welcome. The couch is ready for you.” He paused. “Are you sure you want to sleep here? Because I can still let you sleep in my room…”

 

“This is perfect, Dean. Thank you,” Cas assured him. He pulled back the blanket and settled down on the couch-turned-bed. “Good night.”

 

“Good night,” Dean echoed before heading off to his room to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Cas woke up the next morning on a stiff couch, incredibly unlike his own, comfortable bed. He sat up and took in his surroundings: the leather sofa, the TV, the coffee table strewn with CDs, and his own clothes, obviously borrowed from someone else because Cas was certain he didn’t own the Led Zeppelin tee-shirt he was currently wearing.

 

Slowly, the night before began to return to him like a hungover man remembering bad memories from a night spent drinking and making stupidly bad decisions. Except Cas hadn’t been drunk the night before, and he certainly wasn’t hungover now. Just confused about what he had learned about time travel from San and Dean. And also that Dean had begged him to stay over.

 

Cas sat up in bed and opened the curtain behind him, observing the rain that still fell from the sky. He didn’t know if it had stopped at all during the night; he hoped it had, for the sake of Dean’s worry about his brother getting home safely.

 

He pulled out his phone and frowned as he took in the time. 5:30 a.m. He hadn’t woken up that early since high school, and he had to say that it was very unpleasant. He laid back down on the couch and pulled the blanket over himself, willing himself to fall back asleep. When he didn’t drift back to sleep as he wanted, Cas pulled out his phone and plugged in his earbuds. Before he could open his music app, a message appeared on his screen, delightfully reminding him that his battery was low and he should plug it in.

 

“Goddammit,” Cas muttered, ripping open his bag to pull out his charger. He leaned over the arm of the couch and reached out to plug the charger into the outlet, then sat back on the couch and plugged the other end into his phone. He finally turned his music on, choosing his Led Zeppelin playlist he had put together with Dean’s help.

 

Sighing, Cas stared up at the ceiling. He would have to stay put until Dean woke up. He didn’t want to leave without Dean knowing it; that would be a little rude, in his opinion.

 

Cas leaned his head back on his pillow and let the beginning notes to “Good Times Bad Times” filter through his ears.

 

* * *

 

A couple hours later, Cas heard weird noises around his music. He ripped his earbuds out of his ears and turned around, fixing Dean with a glare at how loud he was being in the kitchen.

 

“Morning, Cas!” Dean said brightly, opening a cabinet and pulling out two plates. “Want some eggs for breakfast?”

 

Cas pulled his blanket off and untangled it from his legs. “Uh, sure,” he said, standing up and turning off his music. He walked over to the kitchen and sat at the counter, setting his phone down on the granite counter in front of him. “Well, maybe not. I should probably head home.”

 

Dean paused, fixing Cas with a confused stare as he held the egg he had been about to crack. “What? No. You don’t need to head to work, do you?”

 

“Well,” Cas started, fiddling with his earbuds, “no. Not right now, anyway.”

 

“Great! It’s still raining out, so you should probably stay here and eat breakfast.” Dean cracked about six eggs, careful to make sure he didn’t get any shells in the pan. “I can put cheese and stuff in here if you want.”

 

Cas slumped in his seat, giving up on telling Dean he should go home. “Cheese sounds fine,” he said, craning his neck so he could see what kind of cheese it was: mozzarella. That would be fine, he thought. He liked mozzarella.

 

“Want some toast?” Dean asked.

 

“Sure,” Cas answered.

 

Dean turned back to the stove and poured some cheese in with the eggs, stirring it around to scramble it together with the eggs. He turned the stove up a bit, then quickly put away the cheese so he wouldn’t forget to do it later. He then placed a couple pieces of bread into the toaster and turned it on to his preferred settings.

 

Cas flipped his phone over and unlocked it. He fiddled around on it, not sure what to do. Eventually, he ended up opening his email to see who, if anyone, had sent him something. Nothing important showed up; it was just a few emails from companies willing him to buy their products. He frowned and turned his phone off, then he set it back down on the counter and settled his chin on his hands, suddenly bored.

 

“What’s your problem?” Dean jokingly asked.

 

Cas looked up and raised his eyebrows. “Hmm?” he asked, lifting his chin from his hands. “Oh, nothing. Just… bored. A little. Not really.”

 

Dean laughed. “Bored? Not in this house. Talk to me.”

 

Cas shrugged. “Okay.” He paused and thought for a second, trying to figure out something to talk about. “Do you know if your brother got home okay? I know he had to be back by today.”

 

Dean nodded. “Yeah. He did.” He didn’t say anything else so he could focus on dishing out the eggs evenly between the two plates. He went over to the toaster and took out the toast, setting them on the plates. “I actually wasn’t able to sleep last night until he called me to tell me he was back at Stanford, safe and sound.”

 

“Is that why you got up so late?” Cas observed, taking his elbows off the counter so Dean could set a plate down in front of him.

 

“I didn’t get up that late,” Dean said, creasing his brow in confusion. He set butter and a knife down on the counter, then sat down in the seat across from Cas. “How early were you up?”

 

Cas shrugged. “5:30? Just about, anyway.”

 

Dean gawped. “How? Why?”

 

“Not sure,” Cas said, shoveling a pile of eggs into his mouth. He pulled the butter towards himself and added, “I haven’t been up that early since high school. Or maybe college. It’s kind of scary.”

 

“No shit,” Dean said, dragging the butter over to his side of the counter once Cas was done with it. “If I ever get up that early, please check me into the nearest hospital because I’ll probably be sick.”

 

Cas saluted him. “All right. You have my word.” He spooned the last of his eggs into his mouth and took a bite of buttered toast. “This is really good, by the way,” he added, nodding down to his toast and his now-finished eggs. He shoved more toast into his mouth and wiped his greasy, buttery fingers on his napkin.

 

“That’s good to hear,” Dean replied, grinning. “I always love it when people compliment my food and, therefore, me.”

 

“How conceited of you,” Cas drawled, half-joking.

 

“Oh, fuck you,” Dean said, polishing off the last of his eggs and toast in one bite.

 

Cas rolled his eyes. “Same to you.” He took his last bite of toast, then stood up and took his plate over to the sink. He rinsed it off as Dean protested, saying that Cas shouldn’t have to do that because he’s the guest. Cas waved him off and returned to dealing with the dishes. He grabbed Dean’s as well, rinsed it off, then placed both plates in the dishwasher.

 

“Thanks,” Dean said once Cas returned to his seat. “You know, you really didn’t have to do that. You’re the guest here; it’s my apartment.”

 

“I took your couch and your food.” Cas shrugged. “I might as well help around here somehow, right?”

 

Dean shook his head. “Nope. But, I do have to admit, if I were over at your apartment, I would’ve done the dishes or some other chore as well.”

 

“See?” Cas exclaimed. “It’s not just me!” He suddenly calmed down and looked at his phone. “Oh. I probably have to leave soon. I want to go home to take care of some things before heading to work.”

 

Dean hopped down from the barstool and nodded. “Yeah, I should probably head downstairs as well. Charlie’s probably already down there getting ready for the day.” He grabbed his phone off the counter and typed something, probably texting Charlie, Cas thought.

 

“I’m gonna go change,” Cas said, standing up and heading back over to the couch to grab his clothes from the day before.

 

“Bathroom’s free!” Dean called over his shoulder while Cas was already walking in that direction. Cas quickly changed his clothes, leaving the ones he had been wearing to sleep in a pile on the counter. He didn’t want to overstay his welcome by taking forever to find the laundry basket, if Dean even had one. He didn’t seem like the person to have one.

 

Cas walked out of the bathroom and grabbed his phone off the counter. “I’m heading out. Bye, Dean.” He waved absently behind himself as he gathered his things from the couch, unplugging his phone charger from the wall and shoving it into his bag.

 

As Cas was about to open the door, Dean caught him and wrapped him in a hug. Cas, surprised, lightly tapped Dean on the back before returning the hug.

 

“Sorry,” Dean said, pulling away. “I just—I don’t know. I felt like hugging you.”

 

“It’s fine,” Cas said, giving Dean a warm smile. “I appreciated it. Anyway, I should probably head out. Thank you for letting me stay over. I probably wouldn’t have wanted to go home in that mess out there. I hate rain.”

 

“Same,” Dean said, going over to the closet to grab his apron. He tied it around his waist and inclined his head to the door. “Come on. I’ll walk you down and then get ready for opening.” He opened the door the rest of the way and lead Cas down the stairs, into the back of the café.

 

“Hey,” Charlie said, looking up from the coffee machines she had just been turning on. “How are you, Dean? Oh, and Cas?” she added, eyes widening as she took in Cas standing next to Dean at the base of the stairs.

 

Dean lightly waved at Charlie as he went over to the coffee machine. “I’m good.” He craned his neck around to look at Cas. “Want some coffee, sunshine?” he asked, completely oblivious to the nickname he had just used. Cas wasn’t. He heard it loud and clear, and it confused him.

 

“Um,” he started, taken aback. “Yeah. Coffee would be great.” He walked around the counter so he was standing on the customers’ side. “And I’m doing well, Charlie,” he added, politely inclining his head towards the redhead.

 

“That’s good,” Charlie said. She set down the rag she had been using to wipe down the countertops and looked up at Cas. She let her gaze travel over him, taking in the clothes he was wearing: jeans with a white, button-down shirt, both things slightly rumpled. “Hope you had a good night,” she added, smirking at Cas and giving him an ‘I know what you two did last night’ look.

 

Cas’s eyes widened. “Wh—what?” he asked. He tilted his head to the side, trying to figure out what Charlie was talking about.

 

“You wore that yesterday, right?” Charlie asked. She pointed at Cas’s slightly-rumpled clothes, probably thinking they were rumpled from sitting on Dean’s bedroom floor all night instead of in Cas’s bag like they really were.

 

“Uh…” Cas looked to Dean for help in answering Charlie, but Dean looked flustered as well. He dipped his head down to hide the warm blush that had swept over his face. Cas tapped his cheeks, feeling for a blush on his own face that could certainly rival Dean’s.

 

Dean took an audible breath, inhaling deeply and exhaling with enough force to cause the pile of napkins sitting on the raised counter in front of him to fly to the floor. “Shit,” he muttered, starting to head around the counter to pick them up.

 

“I got them,” Cas said, kneeling down to pick up the fallen napkins. He shuffled them together until they formed a neat pile, then stood back up and set them back down on the counter.

 

“Thanks, Cas,” Dean said.

 

“You’re welcome.”

 

Dean nodded, then turned to Charlie. “Cas slept over last night because I asked him to. It was raining pretty bad, and I was already worried about my brother driving all the way back to Stanford. I didn’t want to also be worried about Cas out alone in the rain.” He paused, trying to gauge Charlie’s reaction. He glanced over at Cas as well, just to see if he was mad that Dean didn’t want Charlie to think they had had sex the night before. “He just slept on the couch while I slept in my room. That was all.”

 

“Okay,” Charlie said, holding her hands up to show she wouldn’t tease him and Cas anymore. “Sounds good. I’m just gonna… go over there and sweep up the floor. It seems there’s a lot of crumbs on the ground… over there. All the way over there.”

 

Dean hesitantly waved at Charlie as she grabbed the broom from the back of the café. She half-heartedly threw a peace sign and a “That’s so sweet, you two” comment over her shoulder as she ran towards the corner of the coffee shop that she thought was so covered in dirt and crumbs.

 

“Well then,” Dean drawled, looking up at Cas to try to start a conversation with him, “let me finish up your coffee.” He waited for the coffee to stop dripping into the cup, then poured some milk into the cup along with a packet of sugar. He placed the lid on the cup and slid on a cardboard sleeve before walking around the counter to personally deliver Cas’s cup of coffee.

 

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas said, taking the coffee with one hand and rifling through his pockets with the other.

 

“What are you doing?” Dean asked.

 

“Getting money,” Cas said, like it shouldn’t have even been a question. “To pay you.”

 

Dean set his hand on Cas’s arm. “Don’t pay. I made it for you. ‘Cause you’re my friend.”

 

Cas smiled. “Does that mean all my coffee is free?” He jokingly batted his lashes at Dean.

 

“No,” Dean said. “Just this once. And maybe other times.”

 

Cas sighed. “Okay.” He wrapped his hands around the coffee cup and took a sip. “I should probably get going.” He turned a bit and started to head towards the door. He paused to look back at Dean. “Bye, Dean. And thank you,” he added, lifting his coffee cup.

 

Dean waved. “Bye, Cas. I’ll see you later.” And with that, Cas left, and Dean returned to getting the coffee shop ready for the day.

 

* * *

 

Cas climbed the stairs to his floor, tugging his bag closer to his side as he did so. When he finally got to his floor, he dodged kids running around the halls and stepped over the newspapers the kids had shoved into the middle of the carpeted floor.

 

“Having trouble there, Castiel?” someone asked him.

 

Cas looked up. “Oh, hello, Pamela. And I’m doing fine. Just have to be careful where I step.”

 

Pamela laughed. “All right. Goodbye!”

 

Cas waved. “Bye!” He smiled at her before walking away towards his own apartment. On the way there, he passed another one of his neighbors: Hannah. He paused to talk to her. “Hey, Hannah!” he greeted. “Thanks for taking care of Shadow for me. I wasn’t able to get home last night, and she needed to be fed.”

 

“No problem,” Hannah said warmly. “I’m always happy to help you, Castiel. Have a good day!”

 

“You too!” Cas gave her a final wave, then reached into his pocket to grab his key. He walked the rest of the way to his apartment and unlocked the door, stepping inside and dropping his keys onto the little table he kept by the doorway. He closed the door behind him before turning around in a small circle to observe the apartment around him. “Hello, Shadow,” he greeted, crouching down on the ground and petting his cat’s head. Shadow purred in response, then pulled her head from Cas’s hand and walked away from Cas, probably off to find a pile of laundry to sit in. 

 

Cas stood back up and kicked his shoes off, pushing them against the wall so they were out of the way. He pulled his trench coat off and hung it on the wall, making sure to grab his phone out of one of the pockets before venturing into his room. He grabbed a pair of jeans and one of his uniform shirts from his closet, quickly taking off the clothes he was wearing and replacing them with the ones he just grabbed. He threw his dirty clothes into the hamper and heard a purr of complaint.

 

“Oh! Sorry, Shadow!” Cas exclaimed, running over to the laundry basket to pick up the clothes he had just thrown in. He let Shadow jump out and run out of the room, then dropped the clothes back in the basket.

 

Before leaving his room, Cas grabbed a few things and shoved them in his bag: an extra tee-shirt for after work and a pair of jeans to change into in case he got the ones he was currently wearing dirty.

 

“Bye, Shadow!” Cas called over his shoulder as he slipped his trench coat over his shoulder. He put his shoes back on, slid his bag onto his shoulder, and grabbed his keys. With a final wave to his cat—knowing Shadow, she probably didn’t care that Cas was leaving—he stepped out into the hall and left for work.

 

* * *

 

Cas stacked the final can of soup on the shelf. He sighed happily and started the wheel the cart back to the back of the store.

 

“Excuse me,” a man said, standing right next to Cas. “I was wondering if you could help me find something.”

 

Cas hesitated, looking at the cart, then at the doors to the back room, looming still aisles away. “Uh, sure,” Cas ended up saying, keeping one hand on the cart as he turned to face the customer. “What are you looking for?”

 

“The bread,” the man responded. “I can’t seem to find it. I think the store may have been remodeled since the last time I was here.”

 

“It probably was,” Cas said offhandedly. “The bread is down that way.” Cas pointed to his left. “Walk down four aisles and it will be right there.”

 

The man nodded. “Thank you.” And then he was off to find the bread.

 

Cas refocused his attention on the cart. He wheeled it towards the back room, being careful not to hit and customers or knock over any displays. He pushed it against the wall and brushed his hands off. There was some dirt on the cart, probably from the boxes that the cans of soup had been in when they arrived at the store.

 

Cas looked up as an announcement came on over the loudspeaker over his head. “Castiel to the register, please. Castiel to the register.”

 

Cas groaned as he started to head to the front of the store. When he got there, one of his co-workers told him which register to go to, and he went there. He got the register ready to use and turned the light on so customers would know that they could check out there.

 

After a few hours of helping customers, it was nearing the end of Cas’s shift. He yawned a little and shook out his legs—he had been standing for a while without moving, and his legs were stiff—before starting to ring up the next customer’s groceries.

 

“Have a good day,” Cas said, handing the customer her groceries and her change.

 

“You too,” the woman responded, grabbing her bags and giving Cas a warm smile before leaving the store.

 

Cas looked past the woman to find a pair of eyes trained on him. They belonged to a man, short, with dark hair and even darker clothes. It weirded Cas out, but he brushed it aside. It wasn’t the first person to have stared at him, and it wouldn’t be the last.

 

There was only one person left in his line, and, technically, his shift was already over. Cas turned the light off so no one else would get in line and assisted the customer.

 

Once he said goodbye to the customer, he packed his stuff up and went to the back room. He grabbed his bag and went to the bathroom to change into the tee-shirt he had brought, then slung his bag over his shoulder. He said goodbye to a few of his co-workers, and then he left, heading towards Whole Latte Love.

 

* * *

 

“Glad you got back okay,” Dean said, tilting the phone so it would pick up his voice better.

 

“Yeah,” Sam replied. “The roads were a little slippery, and I almost got into a couple accidents, but I’m here at Stanford now.”

 

Dean nodded, but he felt stupid once he realized that Sam couldn’t see it. “That’s good,” he said. “How is everything going? You had a test, right?”

 

“No. I just had to study,” Sam explained. “The test’s tomorrow. However, I had a meeting with a girl I’m supposed to run tutoring sessions with. Her name’s Eileen Leahy. She’s really smart, and I think we can work well together to tutor people.”

 

“That’s cool,” Dean said. “I’ll have to meet her, or at least talk to her over the phone.”

 

Dean could hear Sam’s hesitation. “Or I don’t have to meet her,” Dean offered. “If I’m going to embarrass you, or you think of her as just someone you’re working with—”

 

“No!” Sam interjected. “I was just going to say that you would have to video chat her. She’s, uh, she’s deaf.”

 

Dean paused, still thinking about what he hadn’t finished saying earlier. “Oh,” he ended up saying. “I guess I gotta learn sign language.”

 

“Or she could read your lips,” Sam said. “I don’t know much sign language… yet. I’m gonna learn.”

 

“For her?” Dean asked teasingly. “Oh, that’s so sweet!”

 

Dean could detect Sam’s blush through the phone. “Shut up,” Sam said quietly.

 

Dean was about to respond, but he looked up at the door as it opened and closed. Cas had just entered the café, and he was getting in line. “Hey, Sam?” Dean asked. “I gotta go, okay? It was nice talking to you.”

 

“Is everything okay?” Sam asked.

 

“Yeah,” Dean answered. “I just gotta go. Bye. Have fun with Eileen.”

 

“Yeah, okay,” Sam responded. “Bye.”

 

Dean hung up and turned off his phone, then shoved it into the back pocket of his jeans. He walked over to the register Charlie was working at.

 

“Hey, Charlie?” he asked, tapping her lightly on the shoulder. “Can you go hand people orders? I want to handle the register for right now.”

 

Charlie looked out at the line and smirked when she saw Cas. “Okay. But no flirting. We’re expecting a longer line soon, and we don’t want to hold this one up.”

 

“Thank you,” Dean said, taking over the register once Charlie started to head over to the other end of the counter. He took a few people’s orders, chatting with them about random things. He asked some of the regulars more personal questions, wondering about their families and school and everything else. 

 

Soon, Cas stepped up to the register, eyes trained upward to the menu displayed above Dean’s head. “I’ll have a medium coffee with milk and two sugars,” he said. “And also a chicken salad sandwich.” He finally looked down and met Dean’s eyes. “Oh, hi, Dean.”

 

“Hey, Cas,” Dean said, smiling. He tapped the order into the register and announced Cas’s total. Cas handed over some change, and then he headed over to the pickup counter to wait for his order to be ready.

 

“Charlie!” Dean called. “Come over! Can you take orders?”

 

Charlie rolled her eyes as she walked over to the register. “Fine. But make up your mind, okay? I can’t just keep switching jobs back here. It’s hard to keep a good pace taking or handing out orders.”

 

Dean waved her off. “Yeah, okay. Whatever.” He headed to the pickup and counter and went to work, calling out people’s names and handing them their orders. When he finally got to Cas’s, he smiled and personally handed the coffee and sandwich to him instead of sliding it across the counter like he normally did for the other customers.

 

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas said, taking his order from Dean. “So, do you ever sit still doing this job? You were just taking orders.”

 

Dean scratched at the back of his neck. “Well, uh, I—” He was interrupted by one of his co-workers shoving an order his way. Dean called the name and set it on the counter, waiting for the correct person to pick it up. He turned back to Cas. “I just wanted to talk to you.”

 

“Oh,” Cas said. “Okay. Well, what’s up?”

 

Dean shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess we should probably discuss things for our… trip,” he said eventually, taking in the amount of people that were surrounding him. He didn’t want to say something like “time-traveling adventure” in front of a bunch of strangers and people who probably shouldn’t know what the Winchester family is able to do.

 

Cas nodded. “That sounds good. Do you want to come over to my apartment later to discuss things like… I don’t know.” He hesitated, supposedly trying to think of something to say to cover up the time travel thing, Dean figured. “Travel arrangements,” he said eventually. “And clothing we need for… uh, weather.”

 

“Okay,” Dean said, saluting Cas.

 

Cas was about to turn and leave, or go to a table, but he paused. He turned back to Dean and said, “That guy over there.” He gestured vaguely to some short guy in the corner of the shop, clad in all-black clothes. “He’s staring at us. He was staring at me earlier, when I was at work.”

 

“Oh,” Dean said. “Well, I don’t know. It’s weird. But there’s really nothing we can do.”

 

Cas shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.” He took a sip of his coffee. “Well, I gotta go. I’ll text you with my address, okay?”

 

Dean nodded. “Yeah, of course.”

 

Cas waved, and then he opened the door to the café and left. Dean watched him walk down the sidewalk until he couldn’t be seen in the front window of the coffee shop.


	5. Chapter 5

Dean handed a cup of coffee to a customer and wished them a good day. He started heading towards the back of the shop, towards the stairs to his apartment, telling Charlie he had to leave.

 

“Have fun with your boyfriend!” Charlie called over her shoulder.

 

Dean could feel his face heating up. “He’s not my boyfriend…” he said quietly, not sure himself if he was embarrassed that Charlie had said that or sad that he and Cas weren’t dating. He shrugged it off and headed upstairs, almost immediately taking his apron off when he crossed the threshold to his apartment. He frowned as he looked down at his favorite Led Zeppelin tee-shirt; there were a few stains on it. Dean was upset that it was stained and he had to make sure they would get removed when he washes it, but he was also upset that he had to change his shirt.

 

Dean walked to his bedroom and opened his closet. He riffled through his tee-shirts until he found one he wanted to wear. It was a Metallica shirt. It wasn’t one of his favorites, but it would do. He grabbed a flannel too, just because it was chilly, then grabbed a few things before he left the apartment, saying goodbye to Charlie before he went outside.

 

Dean shivered as he walked to his car, pulling his keys out of his pocket. He pulled his flannel around him tightly and held it that way with one hand while he opened the door to the driver’s seat. He turned the key in the ignition and followed the instructions Cas had sent him so he could get to Cas’s apartment without getting lost.

 

He arrived about fifteen minutes later. He parked in the small parking lot outside the apartment complex, only after making sure that he didn’t have to pay to park there. He stepped out of his car and walked around the side of the building to the entrance. He buzzed up to Cas’s apartment, saying he was visiting, then waited for the door to unlock so he could enter the building. He walked up the stairs until he reached the fourth floor, Cas’s floor. He entered the hallway and was immediately taken aback by the messiness of toys and trash that littered the floor. He took a step forward and was almost run over by two small children.

 

“Hey, you’re new,” someone said. Dean looked up and saw it was a woman who, after a quick glance at the doors that surrounded him, lived a few apartments away from Cas. She seemed to have opened the door to grab her newspaper but was delayed by the appearance of a stranger. “Are you moving in somewhere?”

 

Dean paused and turned to the woman. “Uh, no. No. I’m just here to see a friend.” He politely excused himself from the conversation and started down the hall towards Cas’s apartment.

 

“Are you here to see Castiel?” the woman pressed.

 

Dean stopped in his tracks and sighed inwardly. Did this woman ever stop asking questions?

 

He turned to face the woman and said, “Yeah. Is that a problem?”

 

The woman’s eyes widened as she shook her head. “Oh, no! No, no! I was just wondering. He’s never really had friends over before, not in a while.” She paused and walked over to Dean, a newspaper in her left hand. She held her other hand out for Dean to shake. “I’m Hannah, by the way. I normally take care of Castiel’s cat when he’s away.”

 

Dean returned the handshake. “I’m Dean. Cas’s—Castiel’s friend. But you already knew that.” He gave her a polite smile before pulling his hand away. “It was nice to meet you.” He started to head towards Cas’s apartment.

 

“Nice to meet you, too!” Hannah called, and Dean inwardly rolled his eyes.

 

Dean finally found himself in front of Cas’s door. He knocked a few times and waited for Cas to answer.

 

“Hey,” Cas said brightly as he opened the door. “Come on in.”

 

Dean followed Cas into the apartment and smiled as he looked around. He always found it weird to look at other people’s living places, but it was always so interesting at the same time. He was about to tell Cas how nice his apartment was, but something ran over his feet suddenly. Dean looked down and saw it was a black cat, small, with a deadly look in its eyes.

 

“Sorry,” Cas said, rushing over and scooping the cat up into his arms. “Shadow doesn’t always know how to behave in front of people. Right, Shadow?”

 

The cat responded by pawing at Cas and jumping out of his arms.

 

“She’s annoying like that, sometimes,” Cas said offhandedly as he stared after his cat who had just run off to sit on the arm of the couch. He rolled his eyes at his cat, then beckoned for Dean to follow him into the kitchen. “Come, sit down. I’ll make dinner.”

 

Dean sat down at the counter as Cas walked over to the fridge. He watched Cas search the fridge for something to eat, but he seemed to have some trouble.

 

“Okay over there, Cas?” Dean asked, trying to see over Cas’s shoulder into the fridge.

 

Cas closed the refrigerator with a sigh. “No,” he said dejectedly. “I haven’t gone to the grocery store in a while and I have nothing in here to make a nice meal out of.”

 

“I thought you worked at a grocery store,” Dean said jokingly, stifling a quiet laugh with his hand.

 

Cas rolled his eyes and glared a bit. “You know what I meant.” He sighed. “Anyway, there’s really nothing good here.”

 

“Oh,” Dean said. “That’s okay! We could order a pizza, maybe? I haven’t pizza in a while.”

 

Cas nodded. “All right. We can do that.” He pulled out his phone and dialed the number for his usual pizza place.

 

“Do I get a say in what kind of pizza we order?” Dean asked, loudly whispering it so the person on the other end of the line wouldn’t hear.

 

Cas pulled the phone away from his mouth, covering the end of it with his hand. “No. I’m ordering my usual, which the workers over there pretty much know by heart.”

 

Dean rolled his eyes. “Okay. Fine.” He sat back in his seat and waited for Cas to finish ordering the pizza Dean didn’t get a say in. He tapped his fingers to a Led Zeppelin song—Ramble On—and sang it quietly so he didn’t disturb Cas’s conversation.

 

“Okay!” Cas said suddenly, ending the call and setting his phone back down on the counter. “The pizza’s been ordered, so we just have to wait about forty-five minutes for it to get here. Might as well sit over there.” He gestured to the couch, then grabbed his phone and walked over there. He sat down on the couch and patted the seat next to him, telling Dean to go over there with him. “Sorry I didn’t have anything here to cook for you,” Cas apologized as soon as Dean sat down on the couch.

 

“Oh, that’s okay,” Dean said quickly. “I already know that you hate cooking. I wouldn’t want to make you do something that you hate.”

 

Cas sighed thankfully and smiled. “Thanks, Dean,” he said. He leaned his head back on the couch and looked up at the ceiling. “Sorry. I had a long day, and so many of my customers were incredibly annoying today. I know that sounds bad, but, for some weird reason, so many people were trying to use coupons that expired  _ weeks  _ ago. I can understand trying to use a coupon that expired a few days ago, but not a few weeks.”

 

Dean shrugged. “Well, I can’t say I understand because the coffee shop doesn’t have coupons, but I understand the struggle of working a job where you have to talk to people all day. And, very rarely, no one understands how we feel.”

 

Cas rolled his eyes. “Yeah…” he drawled sadly. He fidgeted with his phone for a little bit, passing it from hand to hand. Dean noticed and snatched from Cas’s hands. “Hey!” Cas protested, trying to take it back from Dean.

 

“It’s going to fly out of your hands if you keep doing that,” Dean started, “and then you’re going to break your phone.”

 

Cas crossed his arms over his chest and rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Anyway…” He sat up in his seat. “I guess we should discuss what we need to do to get ready for our… trip. I guess it can be considered that.”

 

Dean nodded. “Yeah. That is what I came over here for in the first place. But, I could always just hang out with a cool person like you.”

 

Cas laughed. “Nice try, Dean. We need to figure out what we need to bring and when we are actually going to do this.”

 

“Yeah, I guess you’re right, Cas,” Dean said with a jokingly sad tone. “We have to work…” He fake-pouted, and Cas shoved his face away, laughing as he did so. “Fuck off, Cas!” Dean exclaimed, laughing along with Cas.

 

They calmed down after a little while, enough to strike up a serious conversation about their upcoming time-traveling adventure. Dean even returned Cas’s phone to its rightful owner.

 

“Do you want to leave in, say, two weeks?” Cas suggested. He had his fingers poised over his phone’s keyboard so he could take notes on what he and Dean planned for the trip that night.

 

Dean shrugged. “Sure.” He gave an exact date, and Cas wrote that down so they would remember. “I’ll have to tell Charlie that she’ll have to take over the coffee shop while we’re away.” He scratched at the back of his neck. “I mean, she basically does that now anyway, as of late. I’ve been spending a lot of my time talking to you.”

 

Cas frowned. “I’m sorry,” he started to say, but Dean waved him off.

 

“Nah, man, you’re fine,” Dean said. “’Sides, she likes being in charge there, anyway. She says it makes her feel important, like characters in her favorite books and TV shows.”

 

“All right.” Cas nodded. “Well, now that that’s cleared up, I should probably make a mental note to tell my boss not to schedule me that week, and also not until I get back.” He sighed. “He’s going to be pissed. He says I’m the only diligent worker there, but I think he’s wrong. Whatever.” He shook his head. “The guy’s pretty old, anyway, and should be retiring soon.”

 

“Maybe you should take over his job, then,” Dean suggested.

 

Cas shook his head. “No. That’s not for me. I’m only working there to make enough money so I can live here and buy what I need. I’d rather focus on this book, and my—hopefully—other books to follow.”

 

“That’s fair,” Dean agreed.

 

“I’ll also have to leave Shadow with Hannah,” Cas added, simply thinking out loud. “She’s always good with taking care of her.” At the mention of her name, Shadow jumped into Cas’s lap, and Cas absentmindedly stroked her back.

 

“She seems trustworthy,” Dean commented.

 

Cas raised an eyebrow. “When did you meet Hannah?”

 

“Oh!” Dean started, surprised by the question. “Out in the hallway. She started talking to me when I was on my way down the hallway.”

 

Cas slowly nodded. “Okay,” he drawled, still sounding confused. “She didn’t bombard you or annoy you, right?”

 

“Nah. She was cool.”

 

“Good. Good.”

 

Suddenly, the doorbell rang. Cas startled, and Shadow jumped out of his lap. He figured it was the pizza delivery guy, but he hadn’t realized that forty-five minutes had already passed. He stood up and walked to the door, grabbing his wallet off the counter as he passed it so he could pay for the pizza. He took the pizza from the guy and handed him a wad of cash, telling him to keep the change as a tip. The guy left, and Cas returned to the living room, setting the box down on the coffee table. Dean immediately reached for the box to grab a slice, but Cas slapped his hand away.

 

“Wait until I get plates so you don’t get a mess everywhere,” Cas said.

 

Dean rolled his eyes. “Fine.”

 

Cas thanked him and went to the kitchen to grab a few plates. “What do you want to drink?” he called over his shoulder as he opened the fridge.

 

“What do you have?” Dean called back.

 

“Water, soda, beer,” Cas replied, ticking off on his fingers. “I have coffee, but, I can assure you, it doesn’t taste as good as yours.”

 

“Beer sounds good,” Dean said.

 

Cas pulled two bottles of beer out of the fridge and set them on top of the plates with a small stack of napkins. He brought the pile over to the living room and set it on the coffee table, right next to the pizza.

 

Dean smiled and opened the box of pizza. He looked at it, then Cas. “Is this vegetable pizza?” he asked.

 

“Yes,” Cas said. “With chicken. It’s very good, even for someone like you who doesn’t like vegetables.” Cas leaned over Dean to grab a slice and set it on his plate. He gave the other plate to Dean. “I swear, it’s very good. Try it.”

 

Dean pulled a slice of pizza out of the box and set it on his plate. He scooped up some of the cheese that had fallen off and set that on his plate as well; he, however, left the vegetables that had escaped his slice in the box and grabbed a few bites of chicken. He finally took a deep breath and took a bite of the pizza. He chewed it for a few seconds before proclaiming, “Okay, it’s actually good. You were right.”

 

Cas smiled triumphantly as he sat back in his seat and ate his pizza, making sure not to drop any of his vegetables or chicken. “I know I was right. I’m the one who always orders this pizza.”

 

“Yeah. But do you always order a whole pizza, or do you just get a few slices?” Not that it really mattered, but Dean was curious.

 

“The whole pie,” Cas answered. “I get many meals out of one of these, and it makes dinner so much easier when I don’t feel like cooking or don’t have time for it.” Cas shrugged. “And it’s really good. There have been many times where I have practically lived off of this pizza.”

 

Dean laughed. “It  _ is  _ a pretty balanced meal. You got some veggies, some protein, and some carbs, right in one or two or even three slices of pizza.” Dean gave Cas a goofy grin, trying to get him to either laugh or agree with what he had said, Dean wasn’t sure.

 

Cas shook his head. “I don’t think so, Dean. I think there are healthier ways to make pizza that actually make a balanced meal. This is  _ definitely _ not it. I can guarantee you that.”

 

“Fine,” Dean agreed, jokingly crossing his arms so he’d come off as grumpy and pouting.

 

Between bites of pizza and small sips of beer, Cas began to tell Dean where—or better yet when—they would have to travel. “My book covers the stories of people during the American Revolution, the Victorian Era, the 1920s in America, the Great Depression, and the 1940s in Germany. I know that’s a lot, so we don’t have to go to all of those places, but—”

 

Dean cut him off. “No, no! That’s cool. We can go to all those places, er, times. Whatever. It just makes a little more work for us to try to find stuff so we can blend in with everyone.”

 

Cas sagged a little. “I forgot about that. Where are we supposed to find things that blend in with those types of time periods?”

 

“A thrift store?” Dean suggested with a shrug. “Online? Maybe even a costume shop… Whatever. They don’t have to be exact. As long as we don’t meet people there who feel our clothes and find out they’re made of fabrics they’re unfamiliar with.”

 

“That was… oddly specific,” Cas started, “but I surprisingly understand what you’re talking about. When do we want to go out and get some stuff? We should do it sooner rather than later so we have enough time to get stuff online if we can’t find it anywhere else.”

 

Dean nodded. “Yeah. That sounds good. How about this Saturday?”

 

“Sounds perfect,” Cas said. “I don’t have to work then, so I don’t even have to make some stupid excuse to my boss about how I have to skip work.”

 

Dean snorted. “Well, that’s good. I wouldn’t want you to lie to your boss. Then you wouldn’t be the perfect employee anymore, and you would disappoint your boss, and it would ruin your  _ entire  _ life, and—”

 

“Okay, okay!” Cas almost shouted. “I get it.” He rolled his eyes, which he hoped Dean would understand was in a joking manner and he wasn’t actually mad at Dean. He picked up his slice of pizza and finished it, then grabbed his beer bottle and took a few sips. He put it down and added, “I’ll put together some photos of what people wore in those eras so it will be easier for us to find stuff that will work. Does that sound good?”

 

Dean nodded as he polished off his beer. Once he set down his beer, he said, “Yeah. Also, do you have more beer, by any chance?”

 

Cas raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you driving home later?”

 

“Well, yeah, but—” Dean cut himself off and sighed. “I’ve driven after drinking many bottles of beer and been fine. I think I’ll still be fine driving after drinking only one or two bottles.”

 

Cas glared. “You really shouldn’t be doing that. It’s unsafe. You could get into a car accident and injure yourself, or hurt some other person who you don’t even know—”

 

“Okay, stop,” Dean said. “I won’t drink any more beer tonight, okay?”

 

“Thank you,” Cas said simply.

 

“Well,” Dean said, pushing off of the couch to stand up, “I should probably leave soon. I’ll help you clean up first, though.” He grabbed the plates and the empty beer bottles from the kitchen. He rinsed the plates off and set them in the sink. He was about to throw the beer bottles in the recycling, but Cas stopped him before he could do so.

 

“I save those,” Cas said, setting the pizza box on the counter so he could take the bottle from Dean’s hands. “I plant flowers in them and gift them to my family and neighbors.”

 

Dean smiled as Cas rinsed out the bottles and set them out on a towel to dry. He was so sweet, Dean thought, and he made the people he cared about gifts instead of just going out to the store and buying the first thing he found that wasn’t completely shitty. It was just one reason why Cas was so much better than Dean, and why Dean didn’t deserve to have a friend like Cas.

 

“That’s… That’s really sweet, Cas,” Dean said, opening the dishwasher and loading the plates in. Cas looked surprised that Dean was doing that, but he thanked him anyway. “I would never think to make something like that for the people I care about as a gift,” Dean added.

 

“Well,” Cas said, closing the dishwasher, “we all do our own things for the people closest to us. I just happen to like to do this.” He shrugged.

 

“It’s just really nice, that was all,” Dean said quietly, his words trailing off as he continued speaking. “Anyway, I should probably go. I promised Charlie I would be back for at least the last hour the shop was open.”

 

Cas frowned a little, but he covered it up with a sweet smile. “Well, it was nice seeing you, Dean.” He politely led Dean to the front door and placed his hand on the doorknob, ready to open it.

 

Dean wrapped him up in a hug before Cas could open the door. Cas’s eyes widened, and he hesitantly wrapped his arms around Dean, lightly tapping it on the back. Dean pulled away and smiled.

 

“Sorry. Just wanted to do that.” He patted Cas on the shoulder quickly.

 

Cas opened the door for him. “See you Saturday,” he said.

 

“Or before,” Dean said, halfway out the door. “You’re always welcome in the coffee shop.

 

“Right,” Cas said. “Goodbye, Dean.”

 

Dean smiled. “Bye, Cas.”

 

* * *

 

Dean walked down the street, hands in his pockets, whistling a low tune as he searched the shops around him for the one Cas had told him to meet him at. He had to walk a few blocks and look around a lot, but he eventually found it. He crossed the street and walked up to Cas, who was standing in front of the store.

 

“Hello, Dean,” Cas said, looking up as he saw Dean walking towards him.

 

Dean smiled. “Hey,” Dean replied. “Are we ready to find some really, really old looking clothes?”

 

Cas laughed. “Well, when you put it that way, it makes it sound undesirable. I hope it won’t be like that. Besides, a lot of this stuff seems really cool. And I think it made it easier to decide what to wear. It seems a lot of people would wear similar styles of clothing, and nowadays everyone wears such different things that it makes it hard to blend in.”

 

“Blend in? Really, Cas?” Dean jokingly rolled his eyes.

 

Cas crossed his arms over his chest. “You know what I meant.” He gestured to the door. “Let’s go in, okay?”

 

Dean nodded and followed Cas into the store.

 

“What are we looking for, exactly?” Dean asked.

 

“I put together some albums with pictures of men’s outfits from those eras, especially the kinds of things from wherever we’re going. There’s American stuff from the American Revolution, the 1920s, and the Great Depression. Uh, British clothes from the Victorian Era, and German clothes from the 1940s.” He unlocked his phone and handed it over to Dean so he could see what Cas was talking about. Dean looked at it and tried to hand it back to Cas, but Cas told him to keep it so he had a better understanding of what they were looking for.

 

Dean wandered off to a side wall and started picking through a pile of pants. Cas went to one of the racks and looked through some suit jackets he thought could work for both the 1930s and the 1940s.

 

“Hey, grab that waistcoat,” Dean said over Cas’s shoulder.

 

Cas jumped. “Dean! A little warning next time!” He did grab the waistcoat that Dean had pointed out and handed it to him.

 

“Sorry,” Dean said, giving Cas an apologetic pat on the shoulder. “But look at these pants I found! I think they can work for the 1700s, right?”

 

Cas looked at the pants. Dean had miraculously found two pairs of similar—if not the same—pants. Cas picked one of them up and observed them closely, taking his phone from Dean so he could compare the two. He handed the pants back to Dean and nodded. “Yeah. They’ll work. He turned around and picked up a couple of suit jackets. “I was thinking these could work for the 1930s and the 1940s.”

 

Dean grabbed one of that was the exact same shade of black as his waistcoat. “I’ll take this one,” he said.

 

Cas laughed and pulled one aside for himself. “All right, then.”

 

Soon, they worked in almost silence as they made their way around the store. They paid for the clothes they got, then made their way to many other stores in the general area. When they had exhausted every single store in the general vicinity that would carry anything that they needed, they grabbed their bags, trying to evenly distribute them between them both, and headed back to Dean’s apartment.

 

“Yo!” Charlie said as soon as they walked through the front door to the coffee shop. “Where have you two been?”

 

“Shopping,” Dean said simply, patting Charlie on the shoulder as he led Cas to his apartment.

 

“Hi, Charlie,” Cas greeted, smiling at her and giving her something that he hoped resembled a wave. It was hard to wave when his arms and hands were weighed down by bags of clothes that were kind of heavy.

 

Charlie grinned. “Hi, Cas! Nice to see you!”

 

Cas smiled one more time before following Dean up the stairs to Dean’s apartment. When they both reached Dean’s apartment, they dropped their bags on the ground with a sigh. Dean started to lightly kick them towards the living room, so Cas followed suit. Soon, their pile of clothes had migrated from the front door to surrounding the coffee table in the middle of Dean’s living room. They both collapsed onto the couch and almost knocked heads as they relaxed into the warmth that the couch provided.

 

“That is  _ exhausting _ ,” Dean commented, punctuating the statement with a loud yawn. “I don’t know how people can do that, let alone  _ enjoy _ doing that!”

 

Cas shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess most people aren’t looking for the kind of stuff we’re looking for.”

 

“That’s true,” Dean said. “You wanna order some of the stuff we need right now, before we forget?”

 

Cas nodded as he sat up. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. “What did we want? Hats for the Victorian Era, right?”

 

Dean nodded, so Cas searched for that and ended up finding some pretty cool hats. Before he placed the order, he let Dean search for a hat that he wanted to wear in the 1940s. For some reason, he seemed very excited about that outfit. He had managed to find a waistcoat, a jacket, and a pair of pants that all matched, and he had even grabbed other stuff to go with a, like a blue tie with an interesting pattern and a nice dress shirt. All he wanted to get was a hat to complement the entire thing.

 

“This is perfect!” Dean said once he found a hat that he thought would fit well in the 1940s.

 

“Good,” Cas said. “I’m just gonna try to find some bags that will fit into any of the eras. We wouldn’t want to stand out because we’re too ‘innovative’ or too ‘modern.’” Cas quickly found some bags that he thought would work. He added them to his cart, then checked out.

 

“Okay,” Cas finally said. “Now that that is finally done…”

 

“We can watch TV!” Dean suggested happily, already reaching for the remote.

 

“All right,” Cas said, laughing. He settled back on the couch and waited for Dean to choose something for them to watch. “Is this Dr. Sexy?” Cas asked once he saw what Dean had turned on.

 

Dean grinned. “Yes. And you’re watching with no complaints.”

 

Cas held his hands up in a placating manner. He sat back and watched the show with Dean at his side. However, it wasn’t too long until Cas fell asleep on the couch. Dean smiled warmly down at Cas as he grabbed a blanket and spread it over Cas’s sleeping form. Before going to his own room to get ready for bed, Dean turned off the TV and pressed a kiss to Cas’s forehead. He blushed all the way to his room. He wasn’t sure if Cas felt the same way about him. He would have to ask, but that was a conversation for another day, when Cas was awake and Dean wasn’t feeling like he was going to throw up.


	6. Chapter 6

Cas nervously tapped his fingers against his thigh as he waited for Dean to answer the door. He and Dean were traveling to their first time period today and staying there until they felt it was necessary. They would continue on to the other time periods from there and return home when they--mainly Cas--felt they were ready.

 

Cas was scared, to say the least.

 

Before Cas could freak out too much over his upcoming travels and walk away from the apartment, Dean opened the door with a smile on his face. “Hi, Cas!” Dean said cheerfully, stepping aside and beckoning Cas into the room. “Ready for today? Are you excited?”

 

Cas took a deep breath. “A little, I guess.” He shrugged and sat down on the couch with Dean. “I’m kinda nervous. I’ve never done anything like this before… obviously… and something could go wrong. But it hopefully won’t, right?” Cas turned to Dean, eyes wide. He silently pleaded for Dean to say something to help him relax, which wasn’t always possible for Dean.

 

“Cas,” Dean started to say, settling a hand on his friend’s shoulder, “it will be fine. I’ve done this before with no problems whatsoever. I promise that I won’t let anything happen to you. Okay?”

 

Cas nodded and drew in a shaky breath. He leaned into Dean’s touch a bit and sighed. “Yeah. Okay.”

 

“Good,” Dean responded, patting Cas on the shoulder. He pulled his hand away--albeit slowly, like he didn’t really want to--and stood up. “We should probably gather our stuff and put it in our bags so we’re ready for when we leave.”

 

“We’re bringing everything with us?” Cas asked, tilting his head to the side.

 

Dean nodded. “Yeah. I figured it would be easier to travel from time to time without going home in between. This way, it’ll take less time.” He started to walk over to the pile of stuff they had bought a few weeks before, and Cas pushed off the couch so he could follow him.

 

“I have these two bags,” Dean said, rummaging through the pile until he found the box that contained the bags they had ordered. He held them up so Cas could see what they looked like. “They’re plain, and the fabric is kinda simple so it can blend in with all the time periods we’re traveling to.” He shrugged and handed one to Cas. “They’re basically the same, so it doesn’t matter which one I have and which one you have.”

 

“All right,” Cas said. He opened the bag and knelt down on the ground next to one of their many shopping bags, rifling through them and sorting the clothes between himself and Dean. Cas folded each article of clothing neatly and sorted them into piles, trying his best to keep all the clothes from the same time periods together.

 

“Where are we going first?” Cas asked, sitting back with his clothes for the 1920s in his lap, still yet to be folded.

 

Dean shrugged. “Not sure. Maybe we should just go in order?”

 

“Sure,” Cas nodded. “Chronological order. So, the American Revolution is first.” He leaned forward and grabbed his pile of clothes for the American Revolution. He folded his 1920s attire, then carefully placed everything inside his bag, trying his best to line everything up in order.

 

“Are you gonna change now?” Dean asked, pulling his American Revolution attire out of one of the many bags still scattered around his floor. He tossed them to the side so they wouldn’t get mixed up with everything else he was folding and putting in his bag.

 

“I guess I could change now.” Cas shrugged, then tucked his clothes under his arm. “Is it all right if I borrow your bathroom for a few minutes?”

 

Dean nodded, barely paying attention as he assembled his bag. “Yeah, go ahead.”

 

Cas opened the door to Dean’s room and stood in the doorway. He glanced around the room, trying to find the door to the bathroom. When he found it, he stepped over a few piles of dirty laundry and stepped into the bathroom, immediately dropping his pile of clothes on the edge of the counter. He stripped himself of the clothes he was wearing and tried to figure out how he was supposed to put the old-fashioned clothes on.

 

He walked out of the bathroom about five to seven minutes later with a whole new outfit on. He held his previous ensemble in his arms, all neatly folded and ready to be deposited somewhere so he could find it when he and Dean returned from their trip.

 

“Hey, Cas!” Dean said, leaning back on his hands and gazing at Cas as soon as he stepped into view. “Looking good!”

 

Cas rolled his eyes. “Where can I leave these?” he asked, holding up his neat pile of clothes.

 

Dean pointed to the coffee table. “You can leave those over there. I’ll leave mine there too, after I change into my American Revolution stuff.” He pushed off of the ground with his clothes under his arm. “I’m gonna go change and then I’ll be back.” He took off down the hall and disappeared into his room.

 

Cas grabbed his bag off the ground and headed over to the living area. He set his own clothes on the coffee table so they would be there when he got back, then sat down on the couch, setting his bag on the ground under his feet. He leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest as he waited for Dean to finish getting dressed for the first part of their journey.

 

Dean returned almost ten minutes later, pulling at the hem of his unbuttoned waistcoat and looking thoroughly confused. He dumped his normal clothes on the coffee table next to Cas’s, not caring that they weren’t folded, strewn all over the table and hanging off the end. “This doesn’t look right,” he said simply, wrinkling his lip as he glanced between himself and Cas.

 

“That’s because you did it wrong,” Cas said, standing up from the couch and brushing off his clothes. “First, button your waistcoat. I don’t understand why anyone would leave their waistcoat unbuttoned.”

 

Dean rolled his eyes as he begrudgingly buttoned up his waistcoat, tugging it down a bit once he was done so the fabric would lay a bit flatter. “Is that better?” he asked.

 

Cas sighed. “Pull your socks up. They need to go under the end of your pants. Also, fix your cravat. I don’t know what you did to it, but it doesn’t look right.”

 

Dean crouched down on the ground and pulled up his socks, laying the end of his pants over them so there wasn’t any skin showing. He stood up and began to fix his cravat, but as soon as Cas recognized he was struggling with it, Cas batted Dean’s hands aside and fixed it himself.

 

“Thanks,” Dean said, looking down at his ensemble so he could see how it was actually supposed to look.

 

“No problem,” Cas replied, going back over to the couch and sitting down. Dean followed him, grabbing his bag first so he had it near himself.

 

Dean leaned back on the couch, letting himself sink into the cushions. “So,” he said, “what are we looking for when we’re there?”

 

“Mainly civilians,” Cas answered, nervously tapping his fingers on his leg. “People who wanted to fight in the war. Also, I want to see what some women did to serve in the war.” He shrugged. “It really isn’t that much for this era. None of the characters in my book fought in the war, so I really don’t need to know much about the war. I already have all my research done on the Boston Massacre, so maybe we can try to get there around the time of that so I can see how people reacted.”

 

Dean nodded. “All right. When did that happen?”

 

Cas bit his lip. “Uh, hang on,” he said. He leaned down and started to rummage through his bag. He emerged a few moments later with a notebook. “March 5, 1770.”

 

“So, do you want to be there during the massacre, or after?” Dean asked.

 

“We can try a few days after,” Cas responded, closing his notebook and tossing it back in his bag. “Just so we aren’t in too much danger while we’re there, but I’ll still get enough notes for my book.”

 

Dean nodded. “I’ll try to help, but I’m really not sure what I can do.”

 

“That’s okay. I really only need a few extra notes so that when I go back and edit my book, the events seem more realistic.” Cas shrugged and leaned back on the couch. “Honestly, I wish I didn’t have to make you do this. It would be so much easier if I could just send the book off to be published without having to actually travel to all these different time periods.” Cas sighed, sinking into the couch even more. “I guess I should thank you in advance for this.”

 

“No problem,” Dean answered. “And you’re not making me do this. I offered to do this for you, and I couldn’t be happier with my decision.” He turned his face to Cas, a wide, cheesy, sunshine-bright smile spreading across his face.

 

Cas stared back at Dean, and for the first time since Cas had met Dean, he really stared at the man. He was gorgeous, Cas had to admit, and his green eyes shone with laughter. It took everything in Cas’s power not to lean forward and hug him, kiss him, anything.

 

“Cas?” Dean asked, snapping Cas out of his thoughts.

 

“Hmm?” Cas said, lifting his gaze to meet Dean’s. “Did you say something?”

 

“Yeah, actually,” Dean said. “Sammy’s gonna be here soon. Do you have everything you need?”

 

Cas nudged his bag out a bit and leaned over so he could easily dig through it. He sifted through his clothes, making sure everything was there, then picked up his notebook and a small bag of writing utensils. He flipped through the notebook, checking if his notes were all there; when he was all done, he dropped everything back in the bag and carefully closed it.

 

“Yeah, I have everything,” Cas said.

 

“Good,” said Dean. “So do I. We can just leave as soon as Sam gets here, pretty much. He’s just gonna give me a refresher on how to time-travel. I know how to do it, but I haven’t done it in a while so I’m afraid I’m gonna fuck it up.”

 

Cas snorted. “Please don’t. I don’t want to get stuck in the middle of Germany during the Second World War.”

 

Dean saluted. “Got it. I won’t let us get stuck in any time period that isn’t this one.”

 

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas said, inclining his head towards the other man.

 

Dean opened his mouth, about to reply, but a knock sounded at his door. He stood up and walked over to the night, pulling it open with more force than necessary and glaring at the person on the other side of the door. Cas pushed off of the couch and followed Dean.

 

“Hello, Sam,” Cas said as Dean stepped aside to let his brother in.

 

“Hi, Cas,” Sam replied politely. “How have you been?”

 

Cas shrugged. “Fine, I guess. You?”

 

“Pretty good.”

 

“That’s good.”

 

Dean stared between the two of them. “Could this be any less awkward?”

 

“My apologies, Dean,” Cas said.

 

Dean rolled his eyes. “Whatever.” He turned to his brother. “Hey, Sammy. Do you remember what to do? ‘Cause I’m kind of relying on you to make this work.”

 

Sam nodded. “Yeah. I remember how to time-travel.” Finally, it seemed he took notice as to what Cas and Dean were wearing because his eyes grew wide. “What is that?” he asked, looking up and down at the old-style clothes Dean and Cas were donning.

 

“Clothes so we can blend in with the time period. Duh,” Dean explained, rolling his eyes. “I thought you were supposed to be smart.”

 

“Whatever,” Sam said. “You guys ready to leave?”

 

Cas nodded and leaned over so he could grab his bag. He slipped his over his shoulder, then went back over to the couch to grab Dean’s and give it to him, waiting until Dean was done talking to his brother about how to time travel to do so.

 

“Thanks, Cas,” Dean said, tossing his bag on his shoulder and grabbing Cas’s hand. Cas startled and tried to pull his hand away, but Dean held it tight. “We have to be touching for this to work,” Dean explained, and Cas relaxed a bit.

 

“Can I at least say goodbye before you both just go away?” Sam asked pointedly, arms crossed over his chest.

 

“Oh, yeah,” Dean said quietly, gently letting go of Cas’s hand and walking over to his brother. He lifted his arms up and wrapped them around his brother’s shoulders, pulling Sam down to him so he could hug his easily. Sam gave a small smile and returned the embrace, patting Dean on the back before lightly pulling away from the hug.

 

“Goodbye, Sam. We’ll see you soon,” Cas said, giving the younger Winchester a wave accompanied with a small smile.

 

Sam returned the grin. “Bye, Castiel. I hope you are able to get enough notes so you can edit your book.”

 

“Thank you,” Cas answered.

 

“All right!” Dean said, clapping his hands together. “Let’s go.” He grabbed Cas’s hand - this time with no hesitation from Cas - and said, “Bye, bitch,” to his brother.

 

“Bye, jerk,” Sam replied.

 

The last thing Cas saw before he felt like he was in a spinning void, going round and round and round again, was Dean’s smiling face, reassuring him that it was going to be okay, that it was totally safe. Cas tried to hold Dean’s hand tighter to make sure he was still there, but he couldn’t, and he slipped away from Dean. He wasn’t sure what was happening, but he was pretty sure that he was screaming his lungs off.

 

Soon, he landed in a heap someplace, where the ground was rough and a bunch of little pieces of rock dug into any exposed skin. Something heavy landed on top of him, and he groaned in response, trying to push it off.

 

“Oh, shit, sorry,” a voice that sounded distinctly like Dean’s said. The heavy _something_ on top of Cas rolled off, and Cas rolled over and sat up so he could see where he was and who had landed on top of him.

 

“Oh, Dean, it’s you!” Cas said happily, worry gone as he pushed off the ground so he could stand up. He brushed himself off, then offered a hand to Dean.

 

At that moment, Cas looked up and gasped as he saw a horse with a cart coming their way. He quickly pushed Dean out of the way, then grabbed his hand to drag them over to the side so they were out of the way.

 

Dean patted Cas on the shoulder, and Cas could hear both of their hearts beating together, pumping blood through the body quickly to make up for their terror.

 

“Thank you,” Dean said, taking in a few deep breaths. He brushed himself off, and Cas did the same, careful to make sure there weren’t any weird stains or pieces of dirt covering their clothes.

 

“No problem,” Cas replied. He deftly opened his bag and dug through it, emerging a few short moments later with his notebook and a pencil. He flipped it open and skimmed through the notes he had written on that page. “All right,” he said, lifting his head, “I want to explore around here and get some notes, but I think we should find someplace to stay first. We might have to be here a while.”

 

Dean nodded, tugging at the end of his jacket. “Okay.” He looked around the street, clicking his tongue. He stopped and pointed at a place down a couple shops and across the street. “How about there?”

 

Cas squinted, trying to make out what was written on the sign. “Sounds good. Let’s go.”

 

Dean tried to cross the street, but Cas held him back so they both didn’t almost get hit by anything again. Dean thanked him real quick, and then they both crossed the street to stand in front of the inn. Cas led the two of them inside, ducking under the slightly-too-short doorway so he wouldn’t hit his head.

 

“Are you going to find a room, or do you want me to?” Dean asked, rubbing his forehead where he hit it after not following Cas’s example of ducking under the doorframe.

 

“I can,” Cas said, pulling some change out of his bag that Dean was unsure of where it came from. “Just wait here and… I don’t know, take care of your head. It seemed like you hit it pretty hard.”

 

Dean nodded and gave Cas a thumbs up. “Yeah, okay. I’ll wait here.”

 

Cas turned and strode over to someone who looked like they would give him and Dean a room. “Uh, hello,” Cas said to the man. “I would like to request a room for me and my friend over there.”

 

The man craned his neck so he could look at Dean from around Cas’s tall form. He resumed his normal position and said, “Sure.” He told Cas where to find it, and then Cas exchanged money with the man.

 

“Thank you,” Cas said, then returned to Dean to tell him where to go. “Follow me.” Cas picked up his bag. He went upstairs, climbing up a small, narrow staircase with rickety handrails; he could hear Dean’s heavy footsteps thudding against the wooden stairs behind him.

 

“This is it,” Cas said, pulling out a key so he could unlock the door. He twisted the doorknob and went inside, Dean walking in after him and closing the door.

 

“Well,” Dean said, looking around the room at the simplistic furnishing and the light-colored sheets, “this is nice. Shouldn’t be too bad.” He walked over to the bed closest to the door and threw his bag down, sitting down next to it to face the other bed. “So, whatta you want to do first?”

 

Cas went over to the other bed and sat down, setting his bag on the floor by the base of the bed. “Oh, I’m not sure. We can figure that out later. It’s kind of late right now.”

 

“Is it?” Dean asked, turning his gaze to the small, curtain-covered window. He went over to the window, opened the curtains, and looked outside. “Oh, it is late. It’s getting dark outside.”

 

Cas nodded. “Yeah. We should probably just sleep, then get up in the morning and deal with what we have to deal with.”

 

Dean returned to his bed, starting to undress so he could be more comfortable while sleeping; Cas did the same, folding his clothes in contrast to Dean, who threw his clothes into a pile in the middle of the floor. “That sounds great.” He got into bed and pulled the sheets over himself. “Good night, Cas.”

 

“Good night, Dean,” Cas returned, eyes closing almost immediately.

 

* * *

 

 

Cas flipped through his notebook, skimming at the messy notes he had taken over the last few days while he and Dean had explored the place around them. He figured that he had enough notes, and he already had plenty of ideas on how to edit all the parts in his novel that dealt with the time of the American Revolution.

 

“Hey, Cas,” Dean said groggily, finally sitting up in bed. He rubbed his face and looked at Cas through squinted eyes. “What are you doing up?”

 

“Waiting for you to get up,” Cas replied, slowly closing his notebook and placing it back in his bag. “I think we might be done here, but I’m not sure.”

 

Dean stood up and started to pull his clothes on. “We could just walk around, if you’d like. If you find something that might be helpful, you can jot it down, and then we can move on.”

 

Cas nodded. “That sounds good.” He grabbed his notebook again, then pulled his pen out afterward. “Wanna go soon, then?”

 

“Sure. We can go now.” Dean finished buttoning up his jacket, then grabbed Cas by the forearm and dragged him to the door. Cas followed Dean out of the building and into the street in front of the inn, not packed with people like it had been the past few days.

 

“Do you want to go somewhere in particular, or are you just going to look around to see what’s here?” Dean asked, finally letting go of Cas’s arm.

 

Cas shrugged, closing his book and tucking it under his arm. “We can kind of just… look around I guess.”

 

Dean nodded and started to walk through the streets. He would point things out to Cas that he thought were interesting, and Cas would start to ramble on about whatever it was and the history of it.

 

“You know,” Dean said after the fifth or sixth time Cas had explained something, “you could have been a history teacher.”

 

Cas paused, cheeks darkening. “Oh,” he said quickly. “Oh no. I couldn’t. I don’t think I could talk in front of such a large group every single day for the rest of my life. Talking to you right now is fine, but I could never do this in front of a group of, I don’t know, three or more people.”

 

Dean shrugged. “It was just a thought. You seem so passionate about this kind of stuff. It’s actually kind of cute.”

 

His eyes widened, and he could feel heat rising to his cheeks, turning them into a nice, deep red color. “Oh, shit. I didn’t mean that-- Well, I did, but…” He stopped talking and looked down at Cas, who was giving him a small smile, a nice blush on his face that either equated or exceeded the one on Dean’s face.

 

“You didn’t mean what, Dean?” Cas asked quietly.

 

“I…” Dean started, nervously playing with his fingers. He looked around them; he figured there were too many people around them at the moment, so he took Cas by the arm and lead him to a small space behind a nearby shop. “I actually did mean that. That I think you’re cute when you’re talking about something you’re passionate about. I also think you’re cute in general.” The last sentence was so quiet that Dean didn’t think Cas had heard.

 

“Oh, thank you,” Cas replied, ducking his head behind his arm. So he had heard. It was a little muffled and hard to hear, but Cas said, “I think you’re cute, too.”

 

Dean smiled and gently pulled Cas’s arm away from his face. He cupped the other man’s jaw in his hands, leaning forward and searching Cas’s eyes for any indication of what he was feeling. Cas nodded slightly, so Dean leaned forward the rest of the way.

 

Right before they were about to kiss, Dean heard a loud rustling noise coming from around the corner. He pulled away from Cas with a gasp of terror at who was there and turned to see what was going on.

 

An elderly man stood at the corner of the building, dressed in a shockingly bright, white suit that, even though he was no history buff, Dean knew wasn’t from that era.

 

“What--” Cas asked, then promptly shut up when he saw what Dean was staring at.

 

The man in the white suit charged at them, fists raised in front of himself like he was going to attack. A fist flew at Dean, and he tried to dodge it, but it ending up hitting him square in the jaw.

 

“What that fu--” Dean started to say, but another fist flew at his face and caused him to stop talking for a moment. “Who the fuck are you?”

 

“Asmodeus. Now get out of my way,” the man replied, shaking out his hands and curling them back into fists.

 

Dean held his ground and wiped at his face, his hand coming away smeared in blood. “No. Absolutely not.”

 

“Dean,” Cas whispered in his ear. “I’m trying to figure out how to get away from this. Don’t stop me if I try to do something.”

 

“Cas, no!” Dean cried as he watched Cas jump in front of him and start throwing punches at the other guy. The man hit Cas in the face several times, but Cas always hit back, trying his best to get the man out of their way so he and Dean could get back to their room at the inn.

 

Dean joined Cas and tried to help him the best he could. He jumped in front of Cas to try to protect him from what looked like a deadly blow. But what was weird was that he never got hit, and Asmodeus just stopped beating the two of them up. He stepped away from Dean and Cas like he had had enough.

 

“So long, fellas,” he drawled. “My boss wants me to leave you two for him. He’ll see you later.”

 

With that, the man turned around and walked the way he had come from. A portal-like thing appeared in his path, and the man just simply walked through and disappeared as it disappeared.

 

Dean stood up from where he had fallen, using Cas’s arm as a support. “Thank you.”

 

Cas nodded. “You’re welcome, Dean.”

 

“So, uh, that was weird,” Dean commented, gesturing down to where the two of them had last seen the man. He brushed his hands off on his pants, leaving them with multiple tiny streaks of blood all over his thighs.

 

“Yeah, it was,” Cas answered. “Let’s not deal with it right now, though. He left, and we don’t know where he went.” Cas paused and shrugged. “I guess we should just go back to the inn and get cleaned up.”

 

* * *

 

 

Dean pulled out his bag a little while later, after both he and Cas had cleaned off all their blood. They had both managed to get past a bunch of people without anyone asking them while they looked so disheveled, while they were covered in blood. They both changed into the clothes they had brought for the Victorian Era, and then the both of them were on their way to England in the late 1800s.


	7. Chapter 7

Dean and Cas spent their time in England efficiently, getting notes for Cas’s story as quickly as possible so they didn’t have to spend too much time in each era. It would only waste time, was Cas’s thought process, and who was Dean to argue. It wasn’t like they were his notes, or his novel, or even really his trip.

 

They managed to get through it unscathed, with only a brief encounter with someone who Dean and Cas thought was working with Asmodeus and his boss, whoever that was. The woman’s name was Amara, and she didn’t really do much to hurt them; it simply seemed like she just wanted to know where they were so she could report it back to her boss.

 

After, they didn’t go to the 1920s. Cas said that it would take the longest, and it was also the era he didn’t need the most help with, so he wanted to push it off until the end, or maybe not even go at all.

 

Their visit to the Great Depression Era was very uneventful, with only a meeting with another one of their so-called enemies; this one was named Addadon. They moved on without much of a thought, and their World War II Era visit was much of the same. The only difference was that it seemed like someone--they later found out his name was Lucifer, which Dean found kind of funny because the guy really did seem like the Devil--was following them during their entire excursion. Cas had found it difficult to take notes for his revisions, but he somehow made it work and now felt comfortable enough to go home and start making the corrections that his editor had marked.

 

The entire time, Dean longed to continue what he and Cas had started during the American Revolution, right before they met Asmodeus. But every time he tried to make a move, he panicked and went back to keeping his distance, not wanting to risk the healthy friendship they had developed. He sighed and returned his mind to where he and Cas were at the moment.

 

“What are we doing next?” Dean asked Cas, once they were back in the place they were staying during their time in World War II.

 

Cas shrugged. “We could just go home if you want to.”

 

Dean hesitated. Their entire trip had been so fun, and he didn’t want it to end so soon. He didn’t want to go home and work at the coffee shop where he wouldn’t be able to see Cas and hang out with him all day, seeing his beautiful smile and hearing his adorable laugh. Thinking about that just made Dean want to kiss Cas more than he ever wanted to before, but he held himself back.

 

“Um…” Dean drawled, still hesitant. “Could we go to the 1920s? I think it could be fun to just go to one of these eras and just hang out. Plus, you could possibly get some more notes and make your book even better.”

 

“Sure, I guess.” Cas shrugged again, then gave Dean a small smile. “It wouldn’t hurt.”

 

Dean grinned back. “Sounds great. I’ll change, then you can, and then we can both leave.”

 

Cas absentmindedly nodded, already lifting his bag into his lap and rifling through its contents until he found the clothes he had bought for the 1920s. Dean turned on his heel and went to change in the bathroom, walking out when he was done and telling Cas that he could change.

 

Once they were both ready, Dean took Cas by the hand and transported them both to New York City during the 1920s.

 

* * *

 

 

Dean was happy to see that Cas was content with all the notes he had taken throughout their entire trip. Cas sat on his bed in the room they were renting, legs folded under him, notebook in his lap. He flipped through pages and pages of notes, each one with little indents all over from where his pen had hit the paper.

 

“How’s that going, Cas?” Dean asked, stepping away from the window where he had been gazing at all the people walking through the streets, on their ways to wherever they were going. He kind of wanted to be down there, doing something interesting, but he figured he should let Cas finish what he was doing before they made a decision about what they wanted to do next.

 

“Pretty good,” Cas said, glancing over the final pages before closing the book with a satisfying _thump_ noise. “I think I’m done with these notes. I already have so many ideas about what I can do to revise my novel so it’s ready to officially be published.” Cas gave a small smile, then placed his notebook back in his bag, tucking it safely between his piles of clothes.

 

Dean grinned back at Cas, happy that his friend was happy. “In that case…” He hesitated, suddenly nervous to ask Cas. He didn’t know if Cas would want to do anything with him now that his mind was filled to the brim and ready to burst with ideas. He took a deep breath and tried again. “Could we go out and do something? I don’t really want to go home right now and go back to the same old routine I’ve had for years. This trip’s been kind of fun and--”

 

“Sure,” Cas said simply, cutting Dean off.

 

“Sure?” Dean asked, slightly confused by Cas’s simple willingness to just agree to what Dean wanted to do.

 

Cas nodded. “Yeah. We might as well do something fun before we head home. This trip has mainly been work, which probably made it kind of boring for you because I’ve just been taking notes this entire time.” Cas paused and shrugged. “I don’t know. Let’s go out. Find a speakeasy or something.”

 

Dean tapped his fingers against his thigh, lost in thought. “Speakeasies…” He trailed off. “Those are the secret club things, right?”

 

“Essentially, yeah,” Cas answered. “We can go to one, if you want.”

 

“Sounds good.” Dean looked down at what he was wearing. “Do you think this’ll be fine? Should I change?”

 

Cas looked him over. “Nah. I think you’ll be fine.”

 

* * *

 

 

Dean maneuvered his way through the crowd slowly and carefully, trying his best not to drop the drinks he was holding high above his head. He and Cas had been at the speakeasy for a little while, and Dean was content to watch Cas immerse himself in the period-typical jazz music the live band was playing.

 

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas said, extending a hand so he could grab the drink Dean had handed him. He set his glass on his lips and tipped his head back, taking a long sip of the drink.

 

Dean sat down next to Cas and leaned back in his seat. He closed his eyes as he tilted his head towards the ceiling, soaking in the lively entertainment around him.

 

“You know what I find funny,” Cas started to say, startling Dean and causing him to sit up so quickly he almost spilled his drink.

 

“Hmm?” he asked, steadying his glass so none of the liquid fell out.

 

“We’ve basically been wearing the same clothes for a while.” He shrugged. “I mean, we changed outfits, but we wore the same one for at least three days at a time.”

 

Dean stared into his drink for a second, thinking, then he looked up and shrugged. “Yeah. I guess so.”

 

“That’s kind of gross.”

 

“No shit.” Dean tipped his head back and downed the rest of his drink in one gulp. He stood up and turned to Cas. “Want me to get more?”

 

“Sure,” Cas said after he finished the rest of his drink.

 

Dean grabbed Cas’s empty glass and made his way back to the bar. He handed their finished drinks back to the man behind the counter and asked for two more. On his way back to his and Cas’s seats, a stylish, short-haired woman in a brightly-colored dress stopped him with a hand to his shoulder.

 

“Want to go dance?” she asked. “You seem to be alone tonight.”

 

Dean tried to shake her hand off his shoulder without dropping the drinks in his hands. “Uh, I’m actually here with a friend of mine. I should get back to him.”

 

The woman reluctantly took her hand off his shoulder and stubbornly placed them on her hips. “Fine. But you’ll regret this. I’m an excellent dancer.” She said the last sentence with an air of arrogance that didn’t sit well with Dean.

 

When Dean finally returned to Cas, Cas accepted his new drink with a smile and tapped the seat next to him, trying to get Dean to sit down. He sat down and threw his arm over Cas’s shoulder.

 

“Do you want to do anything while we’re here?” Cas asked, taking small sips of his drink. “Or do you just wanna sit here for a while and enjoy the atmosphere?”

 

Dean sank into his seat and gave a small smile. “Let’s just sit here for now.”

 

* * *

 

 

A few hours later, Dean and Cas were still at the speakeasy. Despite Dean’s original wishes, they had danced, and it had been quite the experience and quite bad. Cas kept tripping over his own feet, and Dean kept getting both of them more and more drinks because he didn’t want to miss out on all the fun he thought everyone else was having.

 

In the end, they were both drunk. So very, very drunk.

 

Cas wasn’t that drunk, though, and he still looked and acted like he was sober. Dean, on the other hand, couldn’t even stand upright without falling over, and Cas was worried about how they were going to get back to the place they were staying at without getting in trouble for having and consuming alcohol.

 

“Hey, Dean,” Cas said quietly, gently tapping Dean on the shoulder. “We need to get back. Can you pretend like you’re asleep or passed out or something so we don’t get in trouble on our way back?”

 

“Get in trouble for what?” Dean slurred, gazing up at Cas through half-open eyes.

 

“Alcohol, Dean. Prohibition is still a thing right now,” Cas hissed quietly so other people wouldn’t look at them like they were out of place for Dean not remembering the prohibition laws.

 

“Oh,” Dean said slowly, trying not to trip over his words. He tried to push himself into a seated position, but he had a little trouble so Cas helped him up. “I guess we should go, then.”

 

Cas grabbed onto Dean’s arm and helped him stand up, throwing Dean’s arm over his shoulders so he could help him walk back to the place they were staying at. “Are you all right?” Cas asked, tugging Dean’s arm up a little bit so he could support him more.

 

Dean nodded slowly. “I’m fine,” he muttered, and they were soon on their way back to the place they were staying.

 

They returned about fifteen minutes later, and Cas thankfully closed the door behind him as he and Dean entered the room. Cas helped Dean over to his bed, and he tried to walk away so he could get ready to fall asleep, but a gentle hand on his sleeve stopped him.

 

“Yes, Dean?” Cas asked, turning around and looking down so he could see Dean, who looked so obviously drunk and tired. “You should really sleep.”

 

“In a minute,” Dean said, yawning. “I wanted to tell you something first.” He scooted back on the bed and patted the spot next to him. “Sit down.”

 

Cas sat down next to Dean, shifting his body so he was partially facing towards Dean. “What is it you want to tell me?” he asked.

 

Dean took a deep breath and leaned in closer to Cas so they were basically face-to-face. He took Cas’s hands in his own and said, very seriously so Cas knew he wasn’t kidding, “I love you, Cas.”

 

Cas’s breath hitched. He didn’t know what to say to that. And he didn’t know what to do once Dean leaned forward even more, like he wanted to kiss Cas. When Dean’s lips were almost touching Cas’s, Cas pulled away and pressed a hand to Dean’s shoulder to keep him away.

 

“Dean,” Cas said firmly and patiently. “You’re drunk right now. I don’t want to do anything right now, not until you’re sober. All right?”

 

Dean frowned a little and pulled away. “All right.” He hesitantly stood up and pulled back his sheets, then got back into bed and pulled the sheets up to his neck. “Good night, Cas.”

 

Cas stood up from the bed and gave Dean a small smile. “Good night, Dean,” he said, but Dean was already asleep. Cas’s lip quirked up at the sight of Dean peacefully sleeping, and the last thing he said before he went to bed was, “I love you, too.”

 

* * *

 

 

Cas woke up the next morning with many aches in his body, the most prominent being a severe migraine from the activities of the night before. He groaned as he got out of bed and dressed in his clothes for the day, his joints cracking with each movement he made.

 

“What are you doing?” Dean mumbled from his bed, his voice barely able to be heard from where his mouth was smashed into the pillow.

 

“Getting dressed,” Cas answered, sitting down on his own bed so he could pull his socks on and lace up his boots. “I think we can head back home today, but we can wait until you’re ready to get up and do stuff.”

 

Dean shook his head as he tugged the sheets up to the base of his neck. “No. I can get up now.” He sat up and yawned, then slowly stood up and walked over to his pile of clothes. He got dressed and sat back down on his bed, right across from where Cas was sitting on his own bed. “We can probably leave soon. I just wanna eat something before we go.”

 

Cas nodded, but his mind was focused on the events of the night before. “Uh, yeah…” He trailed off a bit, thinking. “Can we talk about last night first?”

 

Dean looked up, confused. “What about it? We went to a speakeasy. Then we came back here so we could sleep.”

 

Cas hesitated a bit before speaking. “Well, uh, you got kind of drunk last night. We both did, but you really did.”

 

Dean shrugged. “That’s kinda what you do at a speakeasy where there’s a shit ton of illegal alcohol.”

 

Cas rolled his eyes. “Stop making jokes! This is supposed to be serious!”

 

Dean raised his hands in a placating manner. “Sorry. Please continue.”

 

“Anyway,” Cas started, “I had to drag you back here without making it look like you were drunk. We got back and you told me you…” Cas wasn’t sure if he should tell Dean this or not. He wasn’t sure if Dean had actually meant it or not. But he would never know if he never said anything. “You told me you loved me,” Cas spit out quickly, looking down at the ground so he wouldn’t have to watch Dean’s reaction.

 

Dean made a weird sound--almost like a snort or a choked noise--and next thing Cas knew, Dean was kneeling on the ground in front of Cas, his hands resting on top of Cas’s. Cas looked up and the look in Dean’s eyes--he couldn’t quite place it, but it was tender, full of appreciation, or love.

 

“I told you I loved you?” Dean asked. His eyes lit up, and Cas wasn’t sure if it was with laughter at something so ridiculous or happiness at something he wanted.

 

Cas nodded, somewhat sheepishly due to his uncertainty about Dean’s reaction. “You did. But you were drunk, so you might not have meant it.” Cas’s breath hitched, and he shrugged. “I just thought you might want to know.”

 

“I did want to know,” Dean said. He leaned in closer to Cas so his face was barely an inch away from Cas’s. He searched Cas’s eyes for any indication that what he was about to do wasn’t okay. Cas nodded, and Dean closed the small amount of space between them, locking his lips around Cas’s, bringing his hands up so they were draped over Cas’s shoulders. Cas cupped Dean’s cheeks with his hands, leaning in closer to Dean like there couldn’t be any distance between them.

 

Cas pulled away after a little while so they could both take a breath of air. He smiled into Dean’s mouth, and he could feel Dean doing the same.

 

“How was that?” Dean asked, leaning away from Cas so they could both see each other.

 

Cas laughed. “Amazing.” He stared off at the wall behind Dean’s head for a second, then returned his gaze to Dean. “Just for the record, I told you I loved you last night, as well.”

 

“You did?” Dean asked, grinning.

 

Cas nodded. “I did, but you were already asleep so you didn’t hear me.”

 

Dean frowned. “That’s too bad. I guess you’ll just have to tell me again.”

 

Cas rolled his eyes and pressed a quick kiss to Dean’s lips. “I love you, Dean Winchester.”

 

“I love you, too, Cas,” Dean answered, his grin bright enough to light an entire country.

 

* * *

 

 

Cas stood up and brushed off his pants. “Are you ready to go, Dean?” he asked, looking over to Dean as he closed his bag and slung it over his shoulder.

 

“Yeah,” Dean answered. He held out his hand, waiting for Cas to grasp it so they both could travel back to their own time period.

 

“Are you sure we have to go to two weeks after we left? We can’t go back to a couple minutes after we left?” Cas asked Dean as he grabbed his own bag and gave the room a quick once-over to make sure they both had grabbed everything they brought.

 

Dean nodded. “Yeah. It messes shit up if we go back to the time when we left. Not sure why, but it does.”

 

“All right, then,” Cas said, finally taking Dean’s outstretched hand. “Let’s go.”

 

Cas felt himself and Dean being transported through a spiraling vortex, and then they both were deposited on the ground roughly in some alleyway. He looked around, trying to find any indication of where they were, but there was nothing. Before he could ask Dean where he thought they were, he was met with the faces of the five weird people they had met during the duration of their trip: Asmodeus, Amara, Abbadon, Lucifer, and Michael.

 

“Oh, shit,” Dean said, groaning as he stood up and threw his bag towards the wall behind them. Cas followed suit, and soon they both found themselves standing in defensive positions in front of a group of five threatening people.

 

The elderly gentleman in the white suit--Asmodeus--stepped forward first and made the first strike, landing a blow across Cas’s cheek. The others followed, throwing punches at the two of them, trying to get them to break. Cas had no clue why they were fighting, why these people had been following them on their journey throughout time. But he was more focused on making sure he and Dean were safe in that moment than the reason why the fight was happening in the first place.

 

Cas felt proud of himself as he took Lucifer’s arm and twisted it behind his back so Cas could hold the man to his chest. He was able to spare a quick glance to where Dean was locked in a battle with Amara and Michael, trying his best to hold them off. He found a rock sitting by his feet--it wasn’t the best rock, but it would work--and used it to strike a blow across Michael’s forehead.

 

While Cas was distracted watching Dean fight with Amara and Michael, Lucifer had managed to find a way out of Cas’s hold. Lucifer kicked and kicked at Cas’s legs while Asmodeus ran over to help Lucifer.

 

Cas groaned as he fell to the ground, broken pieces of asphalt biting into his cheeks. He swiped at them, trying to get them out of his skin, but his hands just came away bloody and filled with even more asphalt from when he had tried to brace his fall with his hands.

 

“Cas!” Dean called, just as he knocked Amara and Michael to the ground in what looked to be an excruciatingly painful way. The two looked to either be unconscious or completely dead; Cas didn’t know which, and he really didn’t care either.

 

“I’m fine,” Cas called back. He pushed himself off the ground and stood up, unfortunately right in the face of Abbadon and Asmodeus. He watched Lucifer run off towards Dean, ready to throw punches.

 

“You know,” Abbadon started, “I think you would look really good as a blood splatter on my wall. Don’t you think so, Asmodeus?”

 

Asmodeus tapped his chin, faking a thoughtful expression just so he could bother Cas. “I think he would. Add some chunks of his flesh and I think he would turn out to be such a lovely piece of art.”

 

Cas was barely paying attention to what Abbadon and Asmodeus were discussing. He was watching Lucifer punch Dean over and over again, Dean clutching his face where most of the punches had landed. Cas gritted his teeth and curled his hands into fists. The anger bottled up inside of him was released, and Cas didn’t know what to do with it.

 

Without even really thinking, Cas reached out towards Abbadon and punched her in the side of the head, hard enough and in the right place to cause her to fall over unconscious. He did the same to Asmodeus, then stepped over the bodies so he could rush over to protect Dean.

 

“Cas, no!” Dean exclaimed as Cas ran in front of Dean, accepting multiple punches from Lucifer in the face, stomach, legs, and just about every other part of his body. He doubled over in pain, falling to the ground and clutching his legs to his chest, curled up in a little ball to try to protect himself from Lucifer. Dean tried to hit Lucifer back, but something stopped him, and Cas watched as Dean stood frozen in time, unmoving like a statue.

 

“Well, what do we have going on here?” asked a cool, condescending voice.

 

Even though Cas was frozen, just like Dean, he was able to move his eyes so he could see a short man with dark hair and even darker clothes walk out from the street into the alleyway. The man looked oddly familiar to Cas, and after a little bit of thought, he was able to place him as the man that had weirdly been following around one day, from his job at the grocery store to Dean’s job at the coffee shop.

 

“Oh, right,” the man said. “You two are frozen. You can’t talk.” He snapped his fingers, and Dean continued moving towards Lucifer, trying to land a few punches. The odd man snapped his fingers again, and Dean and Lucifer both stopped while Lucifer fell to the ground, just like the rest of his allies.

 

“Who are you?” Cas asked, trying to sit up from his curled up position on the ground. When he yelped in pain, Dean helped him sit up, then sat down on the ground behind Cas and supported most of his weight.

 

“A… very ambitious man who has been looking for a way to travel through time for years,” he answered. “I saw that people who go by the name of Winchester were able to do that, so of course I had to tag along on your trip.” He frowned and finally looked at Dean and Cas. “It was a shame I wasn’t invited.”

 

Cas could feel Dean’s eye roll. “Yeah, a real shame. What’s your name.”

 

“Crowley.” He fixed Dean with a serious look. “I know you know how to pass on the ability to time travel. Do it now, and I’ll leave you two alone.”

 

Dean didn’t speak, and Cas could tell he was calculating what to do next.

 

“Do it now,” Crowley said, a sudden forcefulness behind his words that took Cas by surprise, “and I’ll leave the two of you alive.”

 

Cas turned to Dean and gave him a questioning look. He saw Dean drop his eyes and take a deep breath before reaching around his neck to grab an amulet. Cas had seen the thing a few times during their trip, but he had never thought of it as the thing that helped the two of them time travel.

 

Dean leaned in close to Cas’s ear and whispered, “I’m going to have to let you lie down. Just give me a second and trust me.”

 

Cas nodded slowly, his vision flickering in and out as a sudden flare of pain shot through his ribs. Dean gently set him down so he was lying on his back, then stood up and stood in front of Crowley.

 

“Fine,” Dean said. “I’ll give it to you.” Cas was able to keep his eyes open long enough to watch Dean slip something into his pocket, then reach into the other one to grab something else. He held out his hand to Crowley and let him grab whatever was in it--the amulet, Cas presumed.

 

Cas’s eyes closed, and it was as if he were somewhere else. He didn’t know what was going on around him, but he did recognize a maniacal laugh, and then he felt Crowley leave with the rest of his crew.

 

The next thing Cas knew, the world was black, and he had no idea what was going on.

 

* * *

 

 

Cas woke up to a piercing white glow above him. For a second, he thought he was dead, and he had somehow reached heaven. But he couldn’t be there. There was too much noise from beeping machines and people walking around for it to be heaven.

 

“Hey, sunshine,” said a familiar voice that took a second for Cas to place--Dean. “How are you doing?”

 

Cas groaned and turned his face to the side so he could see Dean. “Hello, Dean,” he said, a small smile spreading across his face. “I’m all right, but my ribs really hurt.”

 

A sympathetic look crossed Dean’s face. “I’m sure they do. You’ve been kind of in and out since you’ve been here, so you might not remember everything. The doctors told me you have some broken ribs, as well as some severe bruising to your face and legs.”

 

Cas’s face fell. “Oh,” he said quietly. He shook his head. “At least we got back home okay.” He paused, suddenly remembering what had happened before he had passed out. “You gave your amulet over to Crowley, and now he is able to time travel.”

 

Dean snorted. “No,” he said, and Cas tilted his head as much as he could while lying down, confused. “I gave him a fake, just another piece of jewelry I happened to have with me. He thought he would be able to time travel, but he really can’t.”

 

Cas smiled at that. “That’s good,” he said. “Thank you for taking me on the trip. It really helped me, and I’m ready to revise my novel with the notes I took the first chance I get.”

 

“You’re welcome, Cas,” Dean said.

 

“I love you,” Cas said, punctuating the sentence with a heavy yawn.

 

Dean smiled. “I love you, too, sunshine. Now get some sleep. You have a lot of recovering to do.”


	8. Chapter 8

Dean walked into Cas’s room at the hospital carrying a couple cups of coffee in a drink tray and a paper bag full of various baked goods from his coffee shop. He had a bag slung over his shoulder, filled with some of Cas’s clothes--just in case the doctors told him he could go home--plus his laptop and his notebook if he wanted to write. He gently knocked on the wall, just to see if Cas was awake or not.

 

“Huh?” Cas asked, turning his head and looking up at Dean through bleary eyes. He blinked a few times, then pushed up into a sitting position. “Hello, Dean.”

 

Dean smiled and sat down in the chair next to Cas’s bed. “Hey, Cas.” He held up the food and beverages he brought in. “I got you some coffee and some nice pastries from my coffee shop.”

 

Cas grinned as he leaned forward the peck Dean on the lips. “Thank you.” He grabbed one of the coffee cups, then took the paper bag from Dean so he could find something that he wanted to eat. He placed the piece of coffee cake on a napkin and set it on the table beside his bed, then raised the cup to his lips and took a sip.

 

“You’re welcome,” Dean answered. He took the other coffee cup and chose a perfectly-shaped croissant to eat.

 

“Do you know when I can leave?” Cas asked, and the look in his eyes was that of a child hoping for something great to happen.

 

Dean set his cup and croissant down, then turned to Cas, a small smile on his face. “Yeah, I do,” he answered. “I told you yesterday, but you were really tired so you might not remember. You basically fell asleep right after I told you.”

 

Cas leaned his head towards Dean like he was expecting more of an explanation. “When is that? I hate it in here. I just want to be home with my cat and to sleep in my own bed.”

 

“Today,” Dean said, smiling at Cas as he took Cas’s hands in his own. “The doctor said your ribs are all healed, well enough that you don’t have to be here and under close inspection all the time. You can go home, but you have to take it easy at first.”

 

Cas nodded. “All right. Is there a certain time I’m allowed to leave, or can I just go now?”

 

“Uh...” Dean trailed off, thinking back to the conversation he had had with the doctor the day before. “I think she said you can go at noon. She or one of the nurses will come in to make sure you’re all right before letting you go home.” He pulled the bag off his shoulder and showed it to Cas. “I have the clothes in here you left at my place before we left for our trip. Figured you might want something to wear that isn’t a suit meant for someone living in the 1920s.”

 

Cas snorted. “Yes. Thank you.” He gave Dean a warm smile, then proceeded to yawn, eyes starting to droop shut.

 

“How ‘bout you take a nap?” Dean suggested. “I’ll leave your coffee and stuff here for you to eat after you wake up.”

 

Dean looked to Cas for a response, but he was already fast asleep.

 

* * *

 

 

A few weeks after Cas returned from the hospital, Dean went over to Cas’s apartment to celebrate his success with his novel. Cas had been working hard as soon as he was well enough to, and he just kept editing and editing his story, sometimes staying up into the early hours of the morning just so he could finish his novel at an earlier date than originally expected. They had fun watching movies and just hanging out all night, and then Dean helped Cas package his novel so he could send it to his editor the next morning.

 

Cas received word from his editor about a month or so later that his novel was ready for publication, which prompted another celebration, this time with Charlie and Sam also in attendance. Dean tried to get everyone to watch the movies he wanted to watch, but they ended up playing a wide assortment of games instead because none of them could agree on one movie to watch.

 

Cas still had a lot of work to do in regards to the publication process, but it was a win nonetheless, and he would take that for the time being.

 

Now, it was almost a year after Dean and Cas returned from their trip, and they were both about to attend a launch party at the local bookstore for Cas’s novel, _Passing Through the Ages_.

 

“Are you nervous?” Dean asked, rubbing Cas on the back to try to calm him down. They both were waiting in the back of the store for their cue to go out to the “stage” like area that Cas was supposed to do his meet and greets and everything else for the night. Originally, Cas was supposed to go out there by himself, but he wanted Dean with him so he wasn’t thrown in front of a crowd all on his own.

 

Cas nodded. “A little, yeah.” He hugged his own copy of the novel to his chest a little tighter and shrugged. “I don’t know. I think I’ll be fine up there.”

 

Dean was about to say something, but the speaker had already announced Cas’s name, so the two of them had to walk out to the area they had set up for Cas.

 

“You’ll do great,” Dean whispered to Cas as he sat down at the table.

 

“I hope so,” Cas answered, sitting down and grabbing the microphone so he was ready to answer any questions the audience asked of him.

 

“So, Castiel,” the speaker asked, leaning herself towards him a bit so the entire thing looked more like a conversation, “who do you have with you today?”

 

Cas smiled a bit, just to himself, before responding. “This is my boyfriend, Dean.”

 

The woman nodded. “Well, nice to meet the two of you today. I would like to open questions up to the audience, so ask away!”

 

Cas leaned towards the audience, getting his microphone ready and gearing up for a long evening of questions and encounters with people he had never met or seen before.

 

* * *

 

 

Sam walked up to Dean after Cas had finished the open question part of the evening. Dean had stayed with Cas for a little bit of the beginning of his signings, but he eventually wandered off to explore the bookstore.

 

“Hey,” Sam said. “That was pretty cool.”

 

Dean smiled in agreement. “Yeah. I’m really proud of Cas, and I think he’s pretty happy with where his story has gone. There were a few people up there who told him that they wanted to read the entire book tonight because they are already so engaged in the story.”

 

“That’s good,” Sam said. “I was thinking of doing the same.” He held up his copy of the book, and Dean saw that he already had a page marked, about a quarter of the way through the book.

 

“Why don’t you get in line to get your book signed?” Dean suggested. “I’m gonna head over there now and hang out with him until the signing is over. And then we’ll… I’ll ask him...”

 

Sam nodded. “You’re still doing that tonight?”

 

“Uh-huh,” Dean answered. “I just hope he won’t think it’s too soon.”

 

“He won’t,” Sam answered. “You two have been dating for about a year, and it’s honestly seemed like you two have known and loved each other for a lot longer than that. I think you guys are ready.”

 

Dean nodded, a small grin playing at the corners of his lips. “All right. Thank you, Sammy.” He rose to his toes to give his younger-but-taller brother a quick hug before he had to head back to the signing table to hang out with Cas for the rest of the night.

 

“You’re welcome, Dean. Now, go have fun with your boyfriend, and don’t stress out. It’ll be fine.” Sam gave him a quick thumbs-up, then turned away to go browse the many sections of the bookstore for anything he might want to get.

 

Dean headed back to the table, ready for an evening spent by Cas’s side with minimal worrying about what he wanted to do that night.

 

* * *

 

 

“How you feelin’, Cas?” Dean asked, swinging his hands by his side as he and Cas walked through the park. They had finished with the launch party for Cas’s book, and Dean had decided to take Cas to the park for his special surprise.

 

Cas shrugged. “Pretty good, I guess. It was really nice to meet all those people who seemed to care so much about my book.”

 

“They better care about it,” Dean said. “You put a lot of work, blood, sweat, and tears into that book.”

 

“And some broken ribs,” Cas added quickly as a joke.

 

Dean snorted. “I shouldn’t be laughing,” he said quickly, stifling what would have turned into an outburst, “but that was kinda true.”

 

Cas shrugged. “Whatever.” He looked up at the sky above them, at the dark blue to black color, at the millions of stars that dotted it, haphazardly thrown into the mix. “Why’d you bring me here? It’s kind of late, and you know the both of us would rather sleep than walk around in chilly weather this late at night.”

 

Dean tried--he really did--to be cool about what he was going to say, but he ended up hurriedly spitting out the words, “Will you marry me?”

 

Cas stopped. “What?”

 

Dean’s eyes widened. “No! Don’t answer that. You clearly don’t want to.” He took in a deep breath and looked down at the ground. He could feel tears start to well up in the corners of his eyes, threatening to spill over his face and run down his cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

 

Cas took Dean’s hands in his, letting go of one to gently lift Dean’s face so they could see eye-to-eye. “Why would you think that I wouldn’t want to marry you?” Cas asked. “Because I do. I would love to marry you.” He ended this with a large smile on his face, and Dean couldn’t help but grin back as Cas wiped the tears from Dean’s cheeks.

 

“That’s… that’s awesome!” Dean answered brightly. He dug around in his pocket, trying to find the ring he had placed in there. He emerged with it a few short moments later, just as Cas also pulled out a ring he had meant to give to Dean.

 

Dean laughed out loud, a boisterous, thundering thing. Cas joined him, albeit not as loud, and they exchanged rings, goofy smiles remaining on their faces as they laughter died away.

 

Cas cupped Dean’s face in his hands and pressed a firm kiss to Dean’s lips. He pulled away and smiled against Dean’s lips, and he could feel Dean doing the same.

 

“Does this mean you should introduce me as your fiance now instead of your boyfriend?” Dean asked, very serious.

 

Cas lightly shoved at Dean’s shoulder, a happy look on his face. “I guess so.”

 

“Good,” Dean answered, then pressed a lasting kiss to his now-fiance’s lips.


End file.
